


Westeros Winter Games

by justme (silver_spring)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, It's like the olympics, Speed Skating, Sports, Sports Talk, Westeros Winter Games, and I love the olympics, and general sappiness, because it was just valentine's, but Westeros-ed, just some light fun fluff, possibly funny in parts, seriously a lot of sports talk, short track, sry for the lame title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-19 02:29:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13694988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_spring/pseuds/justme
Summary: Brienne Tarth is a speed skater, competing in her first Westeros Winter Games. She really has no time for handsome men from the Westerlands..but there's one that just keeps crossing her path.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love the olympics and I love JB, so trying to put these two together seemed like a good idea.  
> Obviously, compared to 90something countries taking part in the Olympics, seven states of Westeros make for a much smaller field of participants. So let's just imagine there are more than 2-3 people from each state competing at an event and more disciplines/sports in all to have the Westeros Winter Games not be over within 5 days or so. Maybe Olympics and X-Games combined or something..
> 
> While I'm an avid sports fan and will watch anything in the olympics, I've never speed skated nor short-tracked. If the descriptions about either lack horribly, I hope you'll forgive me.  
> Also, this is unbeta-ed.

Brienne looked down at herself, grimacing. The official outfit the Stormlands team would be wearing for the opening ceremony of the Westeros Winter Games was..so not made for her. While the male athletes got to wear a nice royal blue ski jacket, the ladies' version she was required to wear was a garish neon pink. With silver, red and purple swirls. The slate gray ski pants were alright except for the pink stripes going down the sides, Brienne guessed, but that jacket.... _yikes_. To top it off, the grey wool hat that went with the outfit had tassels on the sides, a big pink bobble at the top and silver snowflakes sewn on which may have looked cute on someone else, but not on her.

  
"It's not that bad, you know?"

  
Looking up and to the left, Brienne saw her roommate in the Winter Games Village, Shireen Baratheon, wearing the exact same outfit and looking so much better in it. Shireen was one of, if not the, youngest on the Stormlands team, a 15-year old competing  in figure skating. Having a speed skater and a figure skater in one room was maybe a bit unusual; even though putting direct opponents together was a no-no usually the roommates were at least athletes in the same sport. However in both disciplines there was an uneven number of women on their team and Shireen and Brienne had been the 'unfortunate leftovers' due to being new and therefore being not all that popular yet with their teammates. The joke was on the others though, because ever since meeting a week ago, Brienne and Shireen had gotten on splendidly. The  youngster was as diligent, serious and focused as Brienne was herself, so far easy to live with and hadn't been too much of a chatterbox.

  
"Easy for you to say. You look cute."  
"Maybe, but you've only seen the chocolate side" Shireen replied and turned sideways, showing the scars disease during her infancy had left on the left side of her face.  
"At least you have a chocolate side."  
"Yeah..and one made of pizza."  
"Shireen..I.."  
"Relax, Brienne. I'm just messing with you. If it were bothering me all that much, I'd cover it  up, but it doesn't and I don't. I am who I am and if anyone doesn't like it, it's their problem, not mine."

  
An admirable attitude Brienne wished she herself would have had already adapted at such a  young age. Growing up, she had so often quarrelled with her looks. Too tall, too muscular, too many freckles to count in her pale, unpretty face..and that had been before the puberty fairy merely paid her a very quick visit only to leave acne in her wake and forgetting to give her some curves while she was there. Now, at 22, she was more or less at peace with her rather unfeminine looks, but when she'd been Shireen's age, life had been hard.

  
"Well...I like pizza." Brienne replied with a smile.  
"No surprise there, everyone does", the younger girl grinned.  
"As a matter of fact, I'd much rather stay here, eat some pizza and watch the opening on tv."  
"No you wouldn't."  
"No I wouldn't" Brienne agreed with a sigh. "But I _would_ rather wear something else during the ceremony."  
"Seriously: We're all wearing the same outfit so you're not going to stand out if that's what you fear. And as a side note: If it wouldn't completely mess up my jumping technique, I would kill to have your long legs."

  
Brienne only shrugged. They were simply legs and off the ice they were not always  the most graceful ones, but she had to admit that during races their length and muscle mass were more often than not advantages. There was one thing Shireen was wrong about, though: She was going to stand out. Women that were 6'3'' tall automatically did. More so in bright pink.

  
"We need to go now, the buses to the stadium leave in ten minutes."  
"Oh Gods, quick! We don't want my dad to come and get us. If he sees our room, he's going  to have a stroke."

  
Shireen's father and former Westeros Games 50k nordic skiing champion Stannis Baratheon was chef de mission for the Stormlands team. He was known for being pedantic and a stickler for rules,  so the job was probably his post-athletic-career dream come true. It would be quite tragic indeed to cut that career and his life short by showing him the chaos that was their tiny room.

  
Grabbing their phones and accreditation, the two athletes left to join their teammates.

  
"So, who do you think will light the cauldron?" Shireen asked on the way to the elevators.  
"I have no idea."  
"Rumor has it, it might be Olenna Tyrell. The first woman to win the gold medal in women's ski jumping. 56 years ago in Storm's End. She sued the ski jumping federation to include women."  
"Isn't she from The Reach, though? Seeing as we're in King's Landing, I think they'll pick  someone from the Crownlands."  
"Four years ago, the games were in The North and they had that former biathlon champion from the Riverlands, Brynden Tully, light it. With a fire arrow. It looked spectactular."  
"You're like a sports almanac, aren't you?"  
Shireen shrugged.  
"Well..I read a lot. On the way to practice, on the way home...during zamboni time.."  
"Quick: Who won the gold medal in ...let's say...lugeing...uhm..8 years ago?"

  
Her roomie only thought for a moment.

  
"Pfft, too easy. Gregor Clegane, Westerlands. Got caught doping two years later as a repeat offender and is now banned from competing for life."  
"I was just joking! I have no clue if that's correct." Brienne laughed.  
"Trust me, it is. After all, I am my father's daughter. Now give me a hard one."

  
***

  
They played a few more rounds of who-won-what-when on the bus ride to the stadium with Brienne even scoring a few points of her own whenever Shireen had mercy on her and asked for former speed skating champions. It was a nice distraction from thinking about how she would be walking into a stadium filled with thousands of people in a few hours time, visible to the eyes of every person in Westeros that cared to watch the opening ceremony on their tv, just like she had done herself every four years since she'd been a little girl. It wasn't that she didn't want to be here; participating in the Westeros Games had been her ultimate dream since she'd been old enough to understand what the competition meant. And the opening and closing ceremonies with their elaborate fireworks, music, and show performances were always a highlight to be seen. Watching them as a kid, it had always felt as if the team spirit of the athletes was almost tangible, the joy of coming together to celebrate their sports. She was looking forward to experience that for the first time 'live', be a part of it. It was just the thought of being in the spotlight that made her stomach flutter in a not-too-pleasant way. Of course, people watched her compete as well, but that was different. When she was racing, she could forget everything but her opponent, could focus on just pushing her muscles as hard as she could to beat the time set by the other competitors. And she also had her sunglasses on to give her at least the feeling of being protected of anything, including funny looks.

  
"Test, one, two, three. Test...Attention, ladies and gentlemen!" Stannis Baratheon's voice came booming over the speakers. He waited until the chatter died down before continuing.  
"We will now prepare to exit the buses and proceed to the catacombs under the stadium to await the parade of participating states. Please do so without dilly-dallying and make sure to stay together. I don't have to remind you that you are here as representants of the Stormlands and that I expect each and every one of you to make the utmost effort to behave impeccably. Failure to conduct yourselves properly will not be tolerated."  
"What's he gonna do? Send us to bed without supper?" A deep voice from the back snickered, "Since two dudes have the flu, Hockey team number 2 only has three substitute players, we can't afford to be even lesser."  
"It's fewer, Mister Connington, and I assure you: We can." came the dry response via the speakers. Shireen chuckled.  
"I don't get to say this very often, but sometimes, I think my dad is cool."

  
They waited until everyone sitting behind them had passed by their row before getting up and walking to the door for their real first look at the venue. Shireen stopped dead in her tracks.

  
"Wow, this is...wow."

  
Brienne only nodded. The stadium was intimidatingly big. Flashing lights and loud music made her feel as if she were about to be attending a rock festival, there were two giant video walls depicting highlights from past games left and right of the entrance and the official symbol, the seven interlocked heptagons, were practically everywhere. And this was only the back entrance, used by athletes, officials, volunteers and other participants. Suddenly, she felt very small. A very unusual feeling for her, and although she had wished to be smaller on occasion, she couldn't say she was liking it very much, now that it was, in a way, happening.

  
"Ladies! Ladies, you're holding up the line. Keep moving. Shireen!"

  
Focusing her attention to the direction where the voice had come from, Brienne saw Stannis standing four or five feet away, making impatient rolling arm gestures with his left. With his right arm, he was clutching a rather big cardboard box to his chest.

  
"Sorry, dad", Shireen mumbled and stepped out of the bus, Brienne following her. "What's with the box?"  
"These are flags of the heptagons in Stormlands colors for you to wave as we enter the stadium."  
"Oh, cool!" the young skater said and made a grab into the box.  
"One per person, Shireen, put the rest back."  
"Oh.. I was just getting one for Brienne here."  
"She also only gets one, and not a dozen. Put them back. I need to make sure they're equally distributed."  
"Fine" the teen huffed, dropping the fistful of small flags back into the box and picking just two, one for herself and one for Brienne which she passed on before they headed to the catacombs. A volunteer who scanned their accreditations welcomed them to the Games, wished them fun and good luck for their competitions and Brienne got her first serious case of goosebumps tonight. As unreal as it seemed to be here at times, it definitely, really, was happening.

  
They followed the mass of people into the underbelly of the stadium, like sheep or ducklings following their leader, past huge posters of legendary former champions and of the different venues of the next twelve days. Loud chatter everywhere around them, plus the sounds from above, made even louder by the live broadcast on yet another giant video wall in front of them. When the crowd finally wasn't moving anymore for the moment, Brienne and Shireen leaned against the nearest wall and tried to watch the entertainment portion of the opening ceremony for the time being.

  
As a group of stunt people was re-enacting the famous battle of the Blackwater in the stadium and on their big screens, Brienne, starting to get antsy, took a look around. All the athletes surrounding her seemed to be chomping at the bit just like her to finally get out of the catacombs and be part of the celebration above. Letting her gaze wander, she looked in awe at the people around her. There had to be at least a couple of total sports superstars hidden in between the colorful mass. And Brienne Tarth right in the middle of them. The thought was still somewhat surreal and never failed to make her feel a weird mixture of utter nerves and excitement.

  
Before she could start to overthink and get a real case of jitters, Brienne decided to focus  on the sceen in front of her again and not think too much about anything until it was time to go out there. That's when she realized that she was being stared at by a man about twenty feet to her right.

  
He was looking at her with a huge smirk on his face and once he realized he'd caught her eye, lazily sauntered over, pushing through the throng of people, until he ended right in front of her.

  
" _That_ is one hideous color." He stated plainly, nodding at her clothes.

  
Brienne could feel her cheeks warming up into a blush. Sure, she'd thought the same, putting on the jacket, but that didn't mean she wanted others to point it out to her. Especially not handsome others whose gold blonde hair matched perfectly with their ski jacket.

  
"Seriously, what is that shade called? Flamingo vomit?"  
"Flamingoes don't vomit in pink", Shireen spoke up. The guy gave her a quick look and simply shrugged.  
"They do if they're cannibal flamingoes, lil cake crumb."  
"There is no such thi--", her roommate began, but Brienne, not knowing where it came from, interrupted. Maybe it was some instinct that kicked in and wanted to protect or back up her young new friend.  
"I don't think someone wearing a cherry red snowsuit with rhinestone racestripes on it is qualified to give out fashion advice. I mean, what is _that_ shade called? Glittery moon blood?"  
"This? That's Westerlands sports couture, but I guess in all fairness since I'm not the one that designed it..point taken. I'm Jaime, by the way."  
"Brienne Tarth. And this is Shireen Baratheon."  
"Hi Shireen." Jaime greeted the young skater with a nod, before turning his attention back to Brienne, "Nice to meet you, Brienne Tarth. Bobsleigh?"  
"What?"  
"Are you here to compete in bobsleighing?"  
"No, I--"

  
Jaime held up his hand.

  
"Don't tell me, I like to riddle these things out myself. Hmm...alpine skiing?"  
"Wrong again."  
"Not a skier then. Well, you're certainly not a figure skater though I suppose you could lift a guy if you had to. Snowboarding?"  
"No."  
"Hang on! Did I get it already and you've held me back on a technicality? Is it Nordic or skeleton?"  
"No."  
"Damn. Biathlon?" He kept guessing as the mass of athletes moved forward a few steps each.  
"No."  
"Ice hockey?"  
"Are you going to name every sport in the games?"  
"No, because I already discounted figure skating and I'm fairly certain you're not a curler." Jaime scrunched up his face in concentration before huffing.  
"Alright, I give up. What's your sport?"  
"Speed skating."  
"Huh."  
"What?"  
"Nothing, I've just never heard about you, but then again, I don't follow the classic version." He pointed to himself. "Short track."

  
Although there were some that would call short track the cooler version of speed skating, Brienne had never cared much for it. It was just too messy for her likes. A small rink, no lanes, up to six people in one race.. it read like the perfect setup for chaos to her. That and her general blinders when it came to any other sport but hers were the reason she didn't recognize the guy across from her.

  
"Well, good luck for your competitions." She said politely as the throng of people once more shuffled forwards a few feet, guessing that Jaime would go back to his teammates now. He didn't. In fact, he shuffled along right with Brienne and Shireen.

  
"Thanks. And ditto. So, are these your first games?"  
"Yes, they are. For both of us." Brienne said, pointing to her roommate who was still next to her, trying to watch an opera singer wailing on about Aegon's Conquest on the big screens.  
"I figured as much. You have that deer-in-headlights look on your face."  
"It is..overwhelming."  
"Perhaps, but if you want a little advice: Work on your poker face before your first race. If you look scared, it won't matter what race tactic you have, you'll give away the game."

  
Brienne rolled her eyes. Yes, these were the Westeros Winter Games, but it was hardly going to be her first competition. She didn't need some smartass from the Westerlands that had no knowledge of her sport to explain to her how it was done.

  
"Shouldn't you be with your delegation?" She tried to give him a subtle hint to maybe leave them alone again.  
"But they're all so boring." Jaime merely shrugged and stayed right were he was, next to her.  
"You could just try and enjoy the atmosphere."  
"I will. Later. But right now we're just more or less standing around anyway. These are my third games, let me assure you: The standing around part hasn't changed and is neither new nor exciting."  
"Your third games? That's impressive!"

  
And it was. So impressive, Brienne forgot that she'd wanted to get rid of this short tracker just half a minute ago.

  
"Would be my fourth if I hadn't had to take two years off because of injury."  
"Two years! Oh my Gods, what happened?"  
"World Cup in Harrenhal five years ago. Stupid mistake and suddenly what was supposed to be another great race on my part became a clusterfuck. Now, as you probably know, wobbling and falling are not that rare in short tracking but that day the guy behind me falling turned into a chain reaction of us all falling as we were right in the bend. Muddle of bones and blades and suddenly my hand is broken in about 10 places and I'm squirting blood all over the place from it because a wayward blade spiked an artery. I had seven surgeries. Lots of rehabilitation. Still have neurological damage in the two outer fingers, that won't go away. But I'm not complaining and hey: Five years later, here I am again."  
"Wow."

  
There wasn't really more she could say. So far, Brienne had been lucky and never suffered from severe injuries, a torn ligament in her knee a few years ago the worst that had ever happened to her. Those three months rehab and time out had already been hard to bear. To fight back from the kind of injury Jaime had described, especially when he was not a hungry youngster anymore, had already participated in the games before and could've retired instead, it commanded respect.

  
"I wanted to be the one that decides when it's over, you know? Go out when I say it's time, not when some doctor does."

  
Something probably every athlete wanted, but unfortunately not all of them got. Too often injury had killed careers before their time.

  
"Have you..sorry if I'm being ignorant, but have you ever won a gold medal at the games?"  
"My very first race, 12 years ago. And yes, I know I'm old, you don't have to mention it."

  
He grinned at her and winked.

  
"I wasn't..I..obviously you've qualified and--"

  
Thankfully her stammering got interrupted and she was saved from it chain reactioning into something even worse.

  
"Please form orderly lines. We're about to enter the stadium now!" Stannis' voice rang out from somewhere in  front of them.  
"I think you'll have to return to your team now."  
"Looks like it." Jaime agreed, although not sounding all that pleased about it and not making any move to do so.  
"You! Who are you?" Stannis' voice rang again, this time a lot nearer. A second later he popped up right next to them, pointing his finger at Jaime.  
"You don't belong with this delegation!"

  
Jaime threw Brienne a 'gee what gave it away?'-look.

  
"Ooops...guess I better go after all, he's all twitchy, don't want him to explode. I'll see you around, Brienne Tarth."

  
He walked a few feet before turning around in her direction again.

  
"Oh and lose the hat, it makes you look like you're going to whip out a panflute any moment and play a mountain tune." He called out.  
"I thought we'd established you shouldn't give fashion advice?"  
"Yeah, but this one falls under public service!"

  
And with a mock salute, he was gone. Brienne felt a major blush coming on. Yes, the hat was nothing she'd ever wear given the choice, but it was part of the official outfit. She'd earned the right to wear it, and so she would. Willing her hands to not take it off, she turned her attention to Stannis who was still with them, now slowly following the rest of the people to the exit.

  
"Do you have your flags?" He asked, looking at his daughter.  
"Yes, dad."  
"Please try to behave well and don't pull faces at the cameras."  
"Of course."  
"And please don't take any selfies; as my daughter you should be a role model."  
"I know, dad."  
"And--"  
"Daddy, you've told me all the rules at least 50 times," Shireen interrupted, "We're going to be good and do the Stormlands proud."  
"I know that," Stannis said with what, for him probably, was a small smile, "I wanted to say: Try and enjoy the moment, Shireen, you only get to experience your first entrance once. That goes for you as well, Miss Tarth. Have fun."

  
He stepped to the side and let the girls pass. Brienne took a deep breath as they moved forward out of the catacombs and right into the spectacle that was the biggest sports event of the world.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days Brienne followed the routine she'd established since moving into the small room she shared with Shireen. Her competitions were going to begin three days after the opening ceremony, and so she spent her time until then working out, practicing within her assigned group at the rink and generally trying to perfectionize her rhythm living in the Winter Games Village.

  
  
The opening ceremony had been thrilling. Once they'd walked out into the stadium, Brienne and Shireen had waved their flags like crazy, grinning and laughing and waving at the audience together with the rest of their team. It had been loud, there had been flashing lights everywhere, and Brienne's goosebumps had made a very strong comeback, refusing to go away again. She hadn't even thought about being in the spotlight as a bad thing; in fact, she'd been hoping one of the cameras would catch a glimpse of her and broadcast her excited, happy face for her dad to see back home.  
  
They'd followed the volunteers guiding them to the correct spot on one side of the stadium and watched as the Westeros Games Oath was spoken by a Crownlands athlete, promising to respect the rules, to compete fairly and clean in the true spirit of sportsmanship. It was an oath that Brienne lived by all day, every day, but to hear it spoken out loud in this setting felt extra special and she mouthed the words along with the speaker.  
  
Afterwards it had been indeed Olenna Tyrell who'd come in to light the Westeros Games cauldron. It wasn't as spectacular as a fire arrow; the former champion was too old to still do a ski jump, but she made the moment her own. It was customary to jog into the stadium, holding the torch aloft, but no one told Olenna Tyrell what to do. She chose to slowly, ladylike, walk her lap around the stadium, head held high, waving to the audience like a queen before touching the torch to a wick at the bottom of the cauldron's pedestal, which shortly after ignited the flame.  
  
The whole experience had made Brienne giddy and even more pumped for the next twelve days. She was so excited that she all but forgot about the meeting in the catacombs. At least, until Shireen, the little sports almanac, brought it up again back at their room when they were lying in their beds.  
  
_"Jaime Lannister was the youngest short tracker to ever win a gold medal. At the age of 17, 12 years ago at the Pyke games. If he wins anything here, it would make him also the oldest gold medalist in his discipline. Kinda cool if you ask me. And he's cute, too."_  
_"What does that have to do with his racing abilities?" Brienne asked, sort of confused._  
_"Absolutely nothing, but I felt it was important to mention anyway" Her roommate replied sagely._  
_"He's about twice your age, Shireen."_  
_"So? I know he's too old for me, I'm just saying he's pretty to look at, nothing more. Come on! You agree, don't you?"_  
  
_Well, obviously Brienne agreed, after all she wasn't blind. Jaime Lannister, or whatever his last name was, was indeed extremely handsome. Tousled blonde hair, a chiseled jawline, green sparkling eyes, and since he was a professional athlete one didn't even have to mention that his body was in fine shape as well, very likely including a six-pack. Not even tacky rhinestone stripes on his snow suit had managed to make him look awkward or ungainly. But men wasn't a topic she was keen on discussing with anyone, not even Shireen. Brienne could count the number of dates she'd been on on two hands, with fingers to spare, and usually, as soon as her lack of experience found its way into a conversation, other girls tended to either give her looks of sympathy, come forward with patronizing comments or flat out wonder what must've been wrong with her. Not that she pegged Shireen as the kind of girl to do any of that, but as well as they got along, they'd only met a week ago and so it was just awkward to maybe have that sort of conversation with her._  
  
_"If one's into that type.." she therefore replied vaguely with a shrug, hoping that would be the end of it._  
_"He is cute, it's not even a question of type. If he were my age, I'd so have a crush on him" Shireen declared, "But it would probably go unrequited, after all, he seemed quite interested in you."_  
_"He was not!" Brienne immediately objected. "He was just...killing time. And mocking our outfits."_  
_"Yeah, well, there was that. But he didn't have to stay after the mocking.."_  
_"As I said, he was passing the time. He could've just as easily talked to anyone else there."_  
_"We'll see. Maybe you'll bump into him again."_  
_"I doubt it. Our competition venues aren't close to each other."_  
_"But maybe--"_  
_"My bus to practice leaves at 7.30 tomorrow morning, I need some sleep." Brienne interrupted._  
_"Oh. Sure." Her roommate said, sounding disappointed. Brienne sighed. While it was true that she was beat for the day and needed to get up early, and while she definitely wanted out of this particular conversation, rude was not what she had been wanting to be._  
_"We'll talk more about it some other time, okay?" She offered, " I'm just really tired. Truly."_  
_"It's okay. I get it. The opening was exciting, but also kinda draining. It was awesome though, wasn't it?"_  
_"Yeah, it was. Goodnight, Shireen."_  
_"Nite, Brienne.Hey: Wanna go to medal plaza tomorrow night?"_  
_"Sure, we can do that. I should be back from afternoon practice around 4."_  
_"Excellent! Sleep tight!"_  
  
The next evening, they had indeed gone to medal plaza where the actual medal ceremonies were being held, witnessing the first champions being awarded their gold, silver and bronze, and even stayed for a free concert by some new dance music sensation by the name of Khaleesi. Not Brienne's preferred kind of music, but okay for an hour of bopping along, having a good time and taking her mind off the competitions ahead of her. Shireen had made a new friend, a volunteer named Gilly, and so the younger girl hadn't had any time to bring up the topic of men again.

  
Now it was the day before her first race at Visenya's Rink and Brienne felt the fluttering of nerves getting stronger. Usually, she was thankfully one of the people that freaked out somewhat before a test or race but not during, and she only hoped that wouldn't change. The final practice with her home coach, Mister Goodwyn, had been promising enough, although Brienne wasn't getting her hopes up on winning anything tomorrow. 1500 metres was almost too short for her, she was better on the longer distances. Tomorrow was more about testing the ice under competition conditions and using the race to prepare for the more important ones, the 3,000 and 5,000 metres.  
  
Stepping off the bus at the Stormlands stop after afternoon practice, Brienne had about a two minute walk to get to her dining hall. She was going to stick with her usual tested pre-competition routine and grab dinner, have a massage and afterwards try to find her inner zen by listening to some music and pulling the blanket over her head, giving her best impression of an ostrich. Shireen was going to have dinner with her dad and also had been already informed that Brienne needed some peace and quiet before a race. The youngster had promised to respect that and make herself scarce.  
  
After a rather bland but nourishing dinner, Brienne was almost at her building when she heard her name being called. Turning around, she saw Jaime Lannister jogging up to her. Now what could _he_ want?  
  
"I see you've left the ugly hat at home. Smart choice. How's it going?" He greeted her without really greeting once he'd caught up to her.  
"Good. _Good._ And you?"  
"Meh. Practice is going okay, but my roommate snores."  
"Aha." Brienne replied, not really knowing why he hadn't just stopped after that first information.  
"Yeah, he's a hockey player and they expect to make finals, so I'll have the pleasure for the whole duration of the games."  
"Maybe invest in some good earplugs?"  
"The thought has occurred to me. So? What'cha doing? Wanna come along to medal plaza? Knights Of The Seven Realms play later tonight. They may or may not be my favorite band.."  
"Never heard of them."

  
Jaime slapped his hands over his heart in mock shock.  
  
"You've never heard the dulcet voice of Arthur Dayne? Well, that settles it. Now you have to come. I cannot allow you being ignorant any longer of hits such as _Taena is a punk rocker_."  
"I..uh..as _interesting_ as that sounds..I can't."  
"Sure you can, bus leaves in 10. I'll have you singing _Rock 'n Roll Citadel_ on loop by the end of the night.."  
"No, really. I can't. I have a race tomorrow."  
"Oh! Of course. I..uh..I guess that's a valid reason considering where we are. Too bad."

  
He seemed genuinely disappointed about her being unable to go. And, as weird as it was, so was Brienne a little bit. Not because of the punk rock, she was a pop ballads kind of girl, but somehow Jaime with his good mood was a nice distraction from nerves about tomorrow.  
  
"Yeah.." She replied, "And I kinda have to go now. Got an appointment with the physiotherapist for a massage.."  
"Right. Well, good luck with your race. Knock 'em out."  
"I doubt that's going to happen. We race in lanes."  
Jaime broke into laughter upon her serious face and deadpan delivery.  
"You're a hoot, Brienne Tarth! I look forward to seeing you again."  
"Okaaaay?...Have fun at the concert."  
"Sure thing! Alright, I gotta jet, I see my buddy over there" Jaime said, and pointed in the direction behind her, "Hey! Addam! Wait up!"

  
With the hand he'd been pointing with, he clapped Brienne twice on the shoulder.  
  
"Take care."  
  
And once more, she was left looking after his retreating form. Jaime jogged up to a tall guy in the same Westerlands outfit and together they started to walk towards the bus stop, chatting animatedly.  
  
Brienne had no idea what she was supposed to make of Jaime Lannister. He'd seemed honestly disappointed when she'd declined going to medal plaza, but only two seconds later he'd been his happy self again. Well. He probably just had been looking for anyone to accompany him;  after all, he seemed the type that had a hard time shutting up and that always worked better when one had a more or less willing audience. It hadn't been about her in particular. Couldn't have been. The thought of it being about her particular was a crazy one and Brienne wouldn't even have entertained it if her roommate hadn't implied the other day that there had been going on more in the first meeting of Jaime than there actually had been.  
  
Shaking her head to clear out those thoughts, Brienne hurried along to her massage appointment. In any case, it was a good thing that Shireen hadn't been around to witness her interaction with Jaime, lest she be subjected to another attempt of boy-talk and more crazy notions like Jaime being interested in her. There were more important things right now to focus on. The reason she was here for. Her first race in the Westeros Games.


	3. Chapter 3

She was to race against Yara Greyjoy, a former world champion on the 1500 metres distance but that didn't faze Brienne overmuch. Her real opponent today was going to be the clock anyway.

  
Ever since she'd entered the rink this morning, Brienne hadn't taken off her headphones. There was no music playing from them today, but the mere act of wearing them flashed the signal of 'don't wanna talk' across nicely. She only took them off when it was time to be introduced before the competition began. Brienne skated over to the finish line where the competitors were each announced by name. When her name was called, she raised her arm and gave a short wave. The audience was fantastic, cheering them all on with the same enthusiasm.

  
Since she was going to race in the 12th out of 16 pairs, there was still some time. Taking her skates off once more, Brienne went back to the call room and made use of one of the spinning bikes for another soft warmup, keeping her muscles smooth and ready, headphones in place again.  
  
"You nervous, kid?" She heard her coach's voice after a while. Mister Goodwyn of course knew she'd hear everything and didn't bother to make his presence known by tapping her on the shoulder or something like that.  
"Of course" Brienne replied, not letting up on stepping into the pedals.  
"Good. I'd be worried for you if you weren't."  
"More worried, you mean."  
"No. I know you're going to give it your best and that's all you can do really. The rest is not up to you."  
"I could fall." Brienne cautioned, not mentioning all of the other reasons why this could end badly. A false start,  disqualification or just being shell-shocked into being embarrassingly slow...  
"Nonsense. You hardly ever do, why should it happen today of all days, hmm? You've done your practice, you put in the work, you're ready. Speaking of which, you can stop pedaling now."

  
She eased off the pedals and looked at her coach. Coach Goodwyn must've seen something in her look, because he smiled fondly at her.

  
"When your father brought you to the rink the first time, I knew right away you had potential. You were so stubborn, you were determined not to fall because it would get your clothes wet, and so you stayed on your feet the whole time. Wobbly of course, but still. You are not going to fall, you're still much too stubborn for it."  
"I do have this brand new race suit.." Brienne replied with a tiny smile. And it was a nice suit too. Whatever the fashion designers had done wrong with their official outfits for  the ladies of the Stormlands, they'd made up for with the racing suits. It was dark blue, the word Stormlands printed on in silver on the right leg. On the back it spelled her family name, under a graphic of lightning tearing through a stormy night sky.  
"See? That's the Brienne I know. Now go put your skates back on, do some slow laps and get a feel for the ice."  
"Yes, Ser." She nodded, getting off the spinning bike and doing just what her coach had told her to.  
  
About twenty minutes later, it was time and she was being called up.  
Brienne took off her fleece jacket and pants before putting up her suit's hood and her sunglasses on. This was it. Bending forward and giving each of her muscular thighs a few slaps, she skated over to her side of the rink.

  
_"Pair 12, starting on the inside lane, representing the Iron Islands, Yara Greyjoy. On the outside lane, representing the Stormlands, Brienne Tarth!"_

  
Rotating her neck, shoulders and arms, Brienne took her position at the pre-start line. She tugged at her hood one last time, making sure it was on perfectly.

  
_"Go to the start!"_

  
They skated to the actual starting line a few feet ahead, taking up a stable position. Brienne hacked with her right skate into the ice so as to not skid when she was going to take off, taking a last long and deep breath.

  
_"Ready?"_

  
Brienne went into starting position and waited for the signal. Her pulse was hammering. There were a handful of competitors that were faster at the start than she was, so, considering the, for her, short distance, a good reaction time was going to be crucial. When the shot finally sounded, she pushed off with all her might as the crowd roared and cheered, hacking those first important staccato steps into the ice to gain as much speed as fast as possible before changing into gliding mode. Since she'd started on the outer lane, coach Goodwyn was right next to her as she was preparing to enter the first bend, his familiar and calming voice letting her know that she'd had a really decent start and to just let it flow. Well, he'd yelled it in order to be heard over the noise coming from the audience, but it was calming to Brienne nonetheless. Yara Greyjoy kept up nicely, though. It didn't matter for now. When the first lane change was up at the back straight opposite of the finish area, Brienne, as the outside skater, was going to have the right-of-way. For now it was more important to focus on the frequency of her steps, her rhythm, to breathe properly and have a stable race. Coming out of the bend, still ahead, Brienne took her left arm behind her back for less wind resistance and thus help increase her pace even more. The crowd around them was still going nuts, but Brienne managed more and more to tune them out, feeling only the burn in her muscles, the pumping of her heart and hearing her fast, hard breaths. She was in her zone now.

  
As she had finished the first full lap, she saw Goodwyn holding up the board with her split time. "0.5" it read which meant that she'd skated the last 400 metres in 30.5 seconds. That was good time for her, but still much too soon to start dreaming about anything. Rather keep focus on the next step. But maybe, just maybe, if she really pushed herself in spite of not having planned on it..

  
It was during the last lap that Yara got a bit away from her, overtaking her before the last bend and powering through to the end, even being able to increase her speed. Brienne tried to catch up, but while the stamina wasn't a problem, she never had been a sprinter.

  
Crossing the finish line, her eyes immediately looked to the big screen where times and placements showed up while she glided over the ice, bent over with her hands on her knees and breathing hard. She'd missed her personal best only by eight tenths of a second and was currently in third place. Of course that placement wouldn't hold with another four pairs to skate, and the top skaters for this distance among them, but the result made her happy nevertheless. It was a good base to build upon for her two important races, the rink suited her and she'd succeeded in not tensing up under the pressure of racing in the Games in front of thousands of people.  
She shook Yara's hand and slapped her palm against Mister Goodwyn's outstretched one for a high five.

  
"Well done, kid!" Her coach beamed.  
"Thanks!" Brienne panted back, taking off the hood and unzipping the upper part of her suit.

  
She skated past her coach to the official who was holding out the race protocol for her to sign, before quickly returning to the inner rink as so not to hinder the next racers. Skating a few slow laps to let her muscles relax gradually, she watched the next races out of the corner of her eyes. As it turned out quickly, Brienne's assessment had been spot on and the winner in the next pair already ran faster than she had. Pair #14 had a slow skate and ended both up in the double digit placements, which meant that Brienne would come in 8th at worst. That was actually not too bad.

  
Stopping in front of a bench, Brienne finally sat down, taking off her skates and putting some sneakers on. There was an outcry from the audience and her head snapped up just in time to see a skater of pair #15 slide over the ice into the cushioned rinkside after a fall. That was not the way Brienne had wanted to end up a place better than 8th and the girl that had fallen, Jeyne Poole from The North, had her sympathies.

  
The last race, pair #16 was a real treat. Lyanna Mormont from The North and her opponent thundered around the rink as if dragons were chasing them. Brienne watched in amazement, clapping along with the audience to push the women on. Yes, she too was in this competition, but she could appreciate a perfect skate even when it didn't happen to her, and as fan of her sport, wanted to see outstanding performances. Lyanna won by three hundredths of a second, breaking the Winter Games record.

  
  
Then it was over. Brienne looked up to the big screen another time to see her name in big letters behind the number 7. Volunteers were preparing everything for the flower ceremony, where the medalists would be acknowledged and their respective anthems played, before they'd receive their actual medals later tonight on medal plaza.  
Packing up her things, Brienne followed a volunteer that was ushering the non-medalists out of the rink and to the side, looking forward to calling her father after the flower ceremony and not so much looking forward to giving her sample for doping testing.

  
"Brienne! Brienne Tarth! Yo, up here!" Someone yelled when she was taking a spot rinkside to watch the medalists being honored. Brienne whirled around. She hadn't known that voice for long, so she wasn't absolutely sure, but it sounded like..  
"No.. _no_ , the other side! That's it! Hi!"

  
..Jaime Lannister.  
He was standing amidst the audience, waving at her, like it was an everyday occurrence to meet like this. Brienne blinked twice, not knowing what to make of it, but walked over anyway.

  
"You were good out there. Sorry about the placement." He began when they were standing across from each other, albeit on different height level.  
"No, it's..it's fine. It's..well, it's not great-fine, obviously, but the 1.500 have never been my strongest race." Brienne explained.  
"I'm not a sports journalist, you can be honest. It's fine to say 'I'm fucking pissed off and fuck that fucking rink for being fucking slow.'  
"The rink is not slow, I'm not always the best starter and with 1.500, there's almost no way for me to make up for it. Also I would never use that kind of language. What are you doing here?"  
"Watching you compete, duh."  
"I got that, but..don't you have to prepare for your own competitions?"  
"The ones I'm in don't start until after the weekend. And I kind of already know how to skate."  
"But..practice?"  
"I've done a unit this morning before coming here and I'll do another one later. What's the point of free access to the competitions if you don't go and watch some? You gotta try to experience being here, you know? You never know if you'll make it back 4 years from now. No reason to be in competition mode 24/7. Live a little in between races. Loosen up. Relax."

  
Easier said than done.

"I can't just kick back and relax. These are the Winter Games and I'm here for a reason. A lot of people worked hard to get me here and I'm not about to let them down."  
"Where in my motivational speech did I say that you had to? See, that's what I mean with the whole relaxing bit. You've done your work, now it's time to reap. It doesn't make you a faster or better skater if you don't give your mind a break every now and then. And by the way: No one worked harder to get you here than you did."  
"Now you sound like my coach."  
" _Or_...your coach sounds like me. Kinda like that version better. Either way, it seems he's a smart guy."  
"You really raised your hand twice the day the Gods doled out self-esteem, didn't you?"  
"Three times, actually. The fourth time around they caught me." Jaime immediately fired back. Brienne had to laugh at that.  
"You're...I never met anyone like you."  
"Obviously. I'm one of a kind."  
"Miss? You need to come with me for after competition testing." A volunteer, having walked up to them without her realizing it, spoke up before Brienne could reply.  
"Pee-in-a-cup time." Jaime grinned,  "I'll let you get to that. Just wanted to say hello. Until next time, Miss Tarth."  
"Oh, it's Miss Tarth now, is it?"  
"Would you prefer Brienne, first of her name, wearer of the ugly hat?"  
"I would not."  
"Then don't complain about being called Miss Tarth."  
"Miss.." The volunteer urged.  
"Yeah, I'm coming. Bye Jaime."

  
Giving a small wave, Brienne followed that volunteer to the exit.

  
"Oh, and Brienne?" Jaime called after her. She turned around and saw him grinning at her, his eyes slowly moving over the racesuit she was still wearing.  
"Love the suit. Blue is definitely your color. Brings out your eyes."

  
Even if she had wanted to reply that it had definitely not been her eyes he'd seen as she'd been walking away from him, he didn't give her the opportunity. He winked at her and turned to leave. Brienne shook her head and turned as well, finally following the volunteer to the back area.

  
Now, she wasn't all that experienced, but had that been..that had been flirting, hadn't it? It made no sense, but what else could it have been? He'd gone out of his way to come to her race. And whenever they met, he was always smiling and winking. Maybe she'd find out during their next unexpected meeting. She had no doubt it would happen. Probably rather sooner than later. And, to be honest, she was already kind of looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Isisbalamia for being spot on about what Jaime will be up to next!


	4. Chapter 4

The next two days, however, Brienne didn't get to even see a glimpse of Jaime, though to be honest, she had no time to look for him either. It was the hot phase before her favorite race, the 3,000 metres. She prepared diligently, giving her skates a final touch up by sharpening their blades one more time as many skaters did themselves, not trusting anyone else with their most important equipment, did her practice units at the rink and had long phone conversations with her dad so that he could talk her down from freaking out. After all, this was going to be the race that counted, the one where her qualification time was the second best of all competitors.

  
Selwyn Tarth, as the leading expert on all things Brienne, found the exact right mixture between support and distraction, telling her how proud he always was of her regardless of what was going to happen and letting her subtly know that an autograph of the most famous hockey player ever, Barristan Selmy, would make a wonderful christmas gift. He would've loved to be in King's Landing, supporting his daughter in person, but he was a judge in their hometown of Evenfall and in the middle of a rather big trial. Brienne would've loved to have him here as well, to share the experience, but it was the way it was. There would, hopefully, be other occasions.  
She didn't change her prep to include loosening up and relaxing as Jaime had suggested and rather stayed with her time-tried methods of quiet time and 'ostrich-ing', after all this was not the time for experiments.

  
Then the big day was here.

  
Brienne was to race against Lyanna Mormont, freshly decorated gold medal winner of their last competition. She'd beaten Lyanna in the 3,000 metres distance in world cup meetings before, but she'd also had her fair share of losses, so there was no way to say how this was more likely to go. Having already won a gold medal and having no more pressure was one, if not the best, outset for Lyanna to figuratively grow wings and deliver a perfect race. Brienne also wouldn't be able to bank on her opponent being fatigued; they both had the same 1,500m in their bones already, although Lyanna had skated hers about two seconds faster. At least today, she would know immediately after the race where she was going to end up in the placements; her and Lyanna were going to be the last pair of 20.  
The 3,000 went from the starting line pretty much immediately into the first bend, there was only little time to gain some decent speed, so again a good start was pivotal.

  
Again, Brienne was given the outer lane to begin in. Again, this meant that she would get to do the last lap and the finish on the inner lane.  
Taking her position at the start line, Brienne fell into the automatisms she always went through before a race; making sure her hood was on right and tight and there were no wrinkles in the suit. Those were routines almost every skater indulged in moments before a race; it helped stay grounded to have little rituals. Her heart was already pounding fiercely.

  
The shot rang. Brienne took off, immediately knowing that she'd just completely messed up the start and her reaction time was going to be atrocious. As she got out of the first bend, Lyanna was already a good distance ahead of her. It was to be expected, since the skater from The North was known to start strongly and then profit from those first good lap times when her steps became shorter as the race neared the end, whereas Brienne preferred a balanced race, trying to keep her speed high and even, but the amount of space after such a short distance having been raced between the two of them was a bit disenheartening. Coming to the finish line, Brienne saw Goodwyn holding up the sign, reading "0.3". 20.3 seconds for the first 200 metres. That was not good. Not if one wanted to race for the medals. She was going to have to increase the frequency. Now, lest Lyanna got away from her. Time to attack.

  
Brienne took both of her arms behind her back on the straight after the bend, to have less wind resistance, keeping her eyes focused on Lyanna ahead of her. She was the target for the moment and Brienne had to reach it. She switched to the inner lane when it was time to and after the next bend Lyanna seemed a little closer.  
"9.8" it said on Mister Goodwyn's sign when Brienne got to the finish line again. 29.8 seconds for the last 400 metres. Damn, that was fast. Maybe too fast. There were still 2,400 metres to go after all.

  
"Easy, kid! Save some kernels!" Goodwyn yelled out to her when she passed.

  
Changing to the outer lane again, Brienne tried to follow her coach's advice and calm herself, letting her opponent go for the moment. It would do no good to catch up to Lyanna for now and then lose her again during the last two laps because Brienne had overpowered and overpaced herself. She focused on the length of her glides and her breathing, trying to block out every other thought, aiming for a high 30 in her lap time. When she passed her coach again, finishing the first kilometer, the sign he held up read "0.9". 30.9 seconds. Excellent. Exactly what she'd wanted.

  
The crowd was roaring around them, trying to push them forward with cheering and clapping, but Brienne barely heard them. She was in a tunnel now, everything around her faded away and it was only the next step she thought of and the taking of the next hard breath she heard.

  
"Steady Brienne! Steady!" Goodwyn yelled when she passed him the next time on the inner lane, holding up the sign reading "1.1". 31.1 seconds. A little slower than the last lap but that was to be expected. Lap times almost always got slower the longer the race was, barring the final lap of course where everyone just threw all they had into it. They had raced about half the distance now. The important part now was to not lose too much in one lap, and keep the speed, as Goodwyn had said, steady.

  
The next two laps Brienne tried to hold her speed and she lost only 0.7 seconds per 400 metres, giving her even lap times of 31.8 seconds. Lyanna Mormont seemed to be having trouble keeping up her speed though, and so the distance between the two racers gradually became shorter and shorter without Brienne attacking aggressively. Her opponent had apparently overpaced herself and was now paying for it.

  
When the bell sounded to announce the final lap after 2.600 metres, Brienne almost had caught up to her opponent after another even round of 32.1 seconds. She was going to switch from the outer to the inner lane for the finish and the smaller radius of the last bend on the inner lane was going to be so very helpful now that she felt the burning in her muscles. On the straight where the lane change was supposed to happen, the two racers were practically abreast of each other. As the skater coming from the outside, Brienne had the right-of-way, but Lyanna wasn't letting up on her speed to let Brienne pass. It was getting close before the bend now. This was not the fairest approach to handling the situation, and if it continued, her opponent could be disqualified, but it wouldn't help Brienne in her attempt to deliver a fast final lap. Just as she was about to curb her own speed a little bit, simply to get to the inner lane somehow, Lyanna finally let up, allowing for a fair takeover. Brienne went into the last bend, her free arm swinging in sync with her steps to hold the speed. She was panting. The finish was so close.

  
"Push kid! Puuuuush!!!" Goodwyn yelled in a shrill voice and Brienne managed to hear him over the throbbing of her heartbeat in spite of her coach still being about 150 metres away. She pressed her teeth together so hard it hurt and threw herself into the home stretch. Taking both arms from behind her back to gain more momentum, Brienne pressed her skates into the ice with each step as hard as she could for a good push-off, focusing on the finish line. One more glide. One more glide. Just one more..

  
When she crossed the finish line, Brienne immediately ripped off her hood and pulled down the suit's zipper, needing air more than anything. She'd given every ounce of what she had in that last lap. She took deep gulping breaths. Bending over, hands on her knees, Brienne's eyes searched for the score board. What she saw made her glad her hands were where they were, because she was sure her knees would've buckled under her otherwise.  
  
_1 (10832) TARTH, Brienne (SL) 3,59.12_  
_5 (6081) MORMONT, Lyanna (N) 4,00.98_  
  
She'd won. She'd won the gold medal in her favorite race! She was now a Westeros Winter Games Champion. Forever. Brienne closed her eyes, lest no tears leaked out. The moment she'd dreamed of having since she'd been six years old was here. The audience around her sounded like it was going nuts, applauding and cheering on an almost deafening level, acknowledging her achievement, honoring her win. She was grateful for the support, flattered that the crowd was behind her, but honestly, all Brienne wanted right now was a moment of quiet to order her thoughts. She was feeling quite dizzy and not because of lack of oxygen. That her lifelong dream had just become reality was almost too much to take in. Sure, she'd contemplated a medal, knew that with a perfect race it was a possibility, had come here to deliver the best possible performances, but still that had only been theory. The gold medal she was to be awarded later tonight was going to be quite tangible.

  
When she came to a stop in front of her coach, Mister Goodwyn, who'd thrown away his time card, immediately engulfed her in a tight hug. The man was a head shorter than Brienne, but she clung onto him, hugging back hard with trembling arms. He'd been her solid since she'd come to practice with him at the age of six back home in Evenfall. He'd taught her to skate, he'd been by her side through it all, injuries, puberty, moving away from home to go to college. He was like a second father to her and right now exactly the anchor she needed.

  
"You did it, kiddo! You did it!" Goodwyn kept repeating while he was bear-hugging her, his hoarse voice sounding like he was trying to hold back a tear or two as well.  
"Ser.." Brienne began, but trailed off, unable to put into words what she felt. There was a bit of a blank space situation going on in her head.  
"I'm so SO proud of you!"  
"Thank you!" She choked out. No more words between them were needed.

  
Brienne would've loved to stay in the grounding embrace of her coach longer, but the flower ceremony was already being prepared and she had to prepare herself for that. After signing the race protocol and receiving congratulations from every person she came across, she sat down to take off her skates and put on her clothes. The normalcy of that helped. Yes, she'd won races before, but these were The Games. Her mind played only a neverending loop of the same three thoughts in her mind. _Oh Gods - I won - Dad._

  
When the announcer called her name and she was about to step on the podium, Brienne again felt like her knees would give out. It was on very wobbly feet that she climbed to the top and it were very shaky hands that received a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed toy of the Games' mascot, a little dragon. When the Stormlands anthem was being played, the shivers down her spine were tremendous and as much as she tried, she wasn't quite able to prevent a tear from leaking out that she hurriedly wiped away.

  
Afterwards, walking out of the arena, the little plush figure in her hands helping with the realization that yes, it had really happened, Brienne covertly looked around into the audience. Maybe her new somehow-somewhat friend from the Westerlands would be here again. The thought of his broad grin and sparkling green eyes, throwing a witty line in her direction made her smile to herself. When she realized that he wasn't there and had not witnessed her triumph, it gave her a little pang. Then she immediately scolded herself for all of that. They'd never made any plans to meet, he had his own schedule to stick to and what was she doing right now thinking of funny and handsome men from the Westerlands when she had just won a gold medal and had other, more important, things to take care of anyway?

  
One doping test and one press conference later, Brienne got her first opportunity to take a break on the way back from the speed skating venue to the village and used it to call her dad. He was ecstatic and, from what she heard over the phone, had made sure his whole office had a spontaneous party in her honor. Both Tarths were teary and there was quite a lot of sniffling going on on both sides after Selwyn Tarth left the festivities in his office to speak with his daughter in quiet and tell her he loved her and how proud he was of her. Both were things her father told her every time Brienne called him, no matter what had happened during her day, but it felt special every time he did nonetheless.

  
Finally arriving back at the village, Brienne was only granted about an hour of relaxation time, before she would have to get ready for the medal ceremony. After that, so she was informed, Stormlands Sports Center wanted an interview with her in their studio and after that, there was going to be a small reception at the Stormlands House, a venue for athletes, officials and journalists to mingle. After the hard race of this afternoon and all the feelings and thoughts that were still wreaking havoc on her, Brienne was actually ready to power down for the day, maybe have a massage and crawl into bed after receiving her medal, but the actual competition was only a part of the life of an athlete and one had to dutifully endure the other sides, like giving interviews, as well.  
  
Upon entering her room, she was assaulted with about 95 pounds of squealing roommate. Brienne had barely closed the door behind her when Shireen practically jumped at her.

  
"Oh my Gods, Brienne! Congratulations!"  
"Thanks, Shireen." Brienne replied, awkwardly patting the younger girl's back.  
"Sorry I couldn't be at the venue, but I watched in the Stormlands Center. I was out of my seat the whole time, you were amazing! Even dad fist-pumped when you won."  
"I..err...well, thanks again. Are you coming to the victory ceremony?"

  
Shireen finally let go of her again, but stayed in front of Brienne, beaming.  
"Duh. Of course I am! I can't believe I'm friends with an actual gold medal winner in the Westeros Winter Games. I'm so happy for you!"

  
Brienne smiled at her young roommate.  
"Well, better believe it. You are. My friend, that is."  
"Ditto." Shireen replied, before a smirk found its way onto her face, "But apparently I'm not the only friend you've made."  
"Huh?" Brienne was confused.  
"Jaime Lannister was here earlier."  
"He was?"

  
Quite frankly, she hadn't thought Jaime knew where in the big complex she lived. The thought that he'd made time to stop by just to congratulate her..Brienne was disappointed they'd missed each other.

  
"Uh-huh. He left you a note."

  
Walking over to the little table on the other end of the room, Shireen picked up a page of standard notebook paper, passing it on to Brienne, who eagerly unfolded it to read.

  
_Congratulations on your outstanding performance! Good job on knocking 'em out!_  
_I'm sorry I wasn't there in person to witness sports history being made, but they wouldn't let me change my practice slot :(_  
_Not gonna make medal plaza tonight either to pay homage to queen Brienne, first of her name (I have physio, boo!) , but I'll be watching on the tv and I'll definitely see you around!_  
_-Jaime_

  
_P.S: Assuming your friends and family will be watching you getting your well-deserved bling as well, here's some free fashion advice: Throw the ugly hat in the little cauldron in front of the stage before stepping on that podium._  
_P.P.S: It goes without saying that I'm still faster than you._  
  
Shaking her head with a smile, Brienne folded the note back up and put it on the little table by her bed before sitting down. Jaime was somewhat obsessed with her hat. Which she would wear for the victory ceremony, ugly or not. And faster than her? Uh, not likely, no.

  
"What's it say?" Shireen asked, nodding in the direction of the note.  
"Congratulations."  
"Well, that's mighty nice of him. Stopping by just to say that."  
"It is" Brienne had to agree. She really needed to find a way to thank him for that.  
"I told you he seemed interested in you, didn't I?"  
"I vaguely recall something like that."  
"Well, I vaguely recall you said we were going to talk more about it later. Is it later yet?"

  
Brienne groaned and sat back onto her mattress, moving into a cross-legged position.  
"I just won a gold medal in the most prestigious sports event of the world and you want to talk boys?!"  
"Of course" Shireen answered, mirroring Brienne's position on her own bed, "I've watched your race, I know what happened. What I don't know is what's going on with you and Jaime Lannister."

  
Well, that was something Brienne would've liked to know herself. As unbelievingly as it seemed, it stood to reason that he was indeed flirting with her. Why else would he seek her out again and again and even bring little notes to her room? He had definitely checked out her backside the other day after the 1500m race. And he'd invited her to spend an evening at medal plaza before that. All that put together really led to no other conclusion, though for the life of her, Brienne didn't understand why he seemed interested. She wasn't known to be a great conversationalist, and as far as looks went, well, hers had hardly ever endeared her to anyone. Maybe a little talk about the situation in general wouldn't hurt after all. Maybe Shireen had some insights. After all, she'd called the whole 'he seems interested' bit on the first day. Plus, she _had_ told Shireen 'later' and Brienne was a woman of her word.

  
"I have only about..." Brienne began, throwing a quick glance to her alarm clock and some caution in the direction of her eager roommate not to expect too much, "25 minutes before I need to take a quick shower and get ready for the medal ceremony."  
"That's plenty of time. Just talk fast."


	5. Chapter 5

Hearing the words _"Gold medalist and Westeros Games Champion, Brienne Tarth, Stormlands"_ , being awarded her gold medal under the frenetic cheers of a few thousand enthusiastic sports fans (which was a whole new trip in itself, and quite frankly much more intimidating than the actual competition had been), hearing 'her' anthem being played and the Stormlands flag raised just for her, knowing that her father was watching (and probably recording) every second of it, beaming with pride, Brienne was hard-pressed not to burst into tears. It was the best moment of her professional life so far, the culmination of sixteen years of hard work; something that she would treasure forever and keep with her as a reminder of what was possible and motivation to keep going during the times when she was not going to be on top of the world.

  
Even though it had been her legs that had done the most today, it was her facial muscles that started to ache by the end of the night because of all the smiling. Also, she'd never realized how many photographers still went for the old 'bite the medal' pose, until she'd 'bitten' hers about thirty times. But Brienne obliged them all. She was so happy she didn't even care about all the flashes going off which meant that tons of people were taking pictures of her on all kinds of devices.

  
The interview with the sports tv station was a quick affair and the questions were all of the kind you had to answer in pretty much every press conference: _How did you feel going into the race? When did you know that you could win? What are your feelings now? What are the prospects for your next event?_ Still, Brienne was glad it was all very standard; less opportunity to say something weird that way. The whole situation still felt dream-like and somewhat surreal, at times it felt like her head was all over the place, trying to come to terms with the reality of this day's events. One would really think that after dreaming about a moment for so many years, they'd be prepared better for it. Right now, it still felt more to Brienne as if she were watching an interactive movie.

  
Afterwards a shuttle car had taken her to the reception in the Stormlands House, where she got to watch her gold medal race on a big screen amidst loud cheering before being toasted to with champagne. Brienne'd never cared much for the taste of alcohol, but figured today was a good day to make an exception, so she at least sipped once or twice on her drink. Countless people came up to her, offering their congratulations and asking to see or even touch her medal. The former she gladly allowed, the latter not so much. She found herself rather possessive of it.

  
It had been very late when Brienne finally got to get home to her room and finally got to rest. Lying in her narrow bed, careful to not wake her roommate, she spent quite some time looking at the shiny golden disc with her name engraved on it that she was going to be able to call hers forever and thinking back of all the things that had happened and maybe also had needed to happen to get her here, to this moment. The years and years of long hours spent at the rink, the sacrifices and also the setbacks. The road to this moment hadn't been always smooth, but the journey had been worth it. Finally putting the medal away and snuggling against her pillow, Brienne couldn't help but also quickly think back on the conversation she and Shireen had had this evening before they'd gotten ready for medal plaza.

  
Insights her young roommate had not really offered, except from an unwavering conviction that yes, the assumption that Jaime was, albeit subtly, flirting with Brienne was correct. Shireen had called it romantic, Brienne was tempted to call it confusing. There were thousands of women here from all over Westeros, why would he be interested in her of all people? Looking back on their first meeting, it wasn't like she'd done or said anything to make a special impression.  Shireen had shrugged and said that it didn't really matter what she had or had not done, and that what may be ordinary to Brienne, may be extraordinary to someone else like it apparently had been to Jaime. All in all, neither the chat with Shireen nor the few thoughts Brienne managed before sleep claimed her brought any concrete findings. She was going to have to find out more the next time she saw Jaime to get to the bottom of this. Shouldn't be too long; Brienne had three days off now before her last race.

  
What she hadn't taken into consideration was that in the Winter Games gold medalists were still high in demand the day after their win. Brienne barely got her daily practice in with being disturbed by phone calls and requests for statements every 10 minutes. Now that she was a Games Winner, even some potential sponsors knocked on her door, or well, called her management who in return called her.

  
Therefore the first of her 'off duty' days, while successful in terms of maybe getting more financial support for her training in the future was no success in terms of bumping into Jaime Lannister again. She wouldn't get to try looking for him for a change in the Westerlands House either tonight, for she had promised Shireen last night to come to her competition. The youngster was going to skate in the short program portion of the figure skating event and had been jittery all through breakfast when Brienne had seen her last. Since figure skating was one of the best-selling ticket events in every Games, she had to leave early for the venue in order to get to her seat before the event began and maybe find Shireen to wish her good luck.

  
Her roommate was warming up, running laps in the back area of the arena. Normally, Brienne shouldn't even have been allowed to go there, but apparently her new fame was quite the door-opener. There was no similarity between the nervous bundle at the breakfast table and the Shireen that now stood before Brienne, and it was not just because of her hair being done up and the make-up on her face. She was determined and focused and ready to, as she put it, 'kick ass'. The big name in the event was four time world champion Sansa Stark; everyone expected the delicate ice princess from The North to win, after all she'd been unbeaten for more than a whole season. But even Sansa would only get one medal, so there were still two up for grabs and Shireen was determined to throw her hat into the ring when it came to distributing one of those. Brienne wished her all the luck and gave her the little dragon she'd been awarded in her flower ceremony as a mascot which earned her a very hard hug from the tiny girl she'd befriended over the last two weeks.

  
When a volunteer that wasn't impressed with her recent win came to kick her out of the back area, Brienne took her seat in the audience. It was not exactly rinkside, she would have to rely on the huge screen hanging over the ice to see anything in detail, but she didn't really know anything about figure skating anyway except that the blades looked totally different than hers, and besides, her presence here was more of a supporting character. Leaning back in her uncomfy seat, she prepared for a few hours of more or less boredom, only interrupted by clapping as hard as she could for her roommate.

  
"Nosebleed seats, nice!"

  
Brienne whirled around. Jaime was plopping down in the seat next to her, smiling, as always. He was wearing his standard Westerlands jacket and sporting some serious stubble on his face which made him even more handsome in a rugged sort of way.

  
"I..err...huh..I--" Brienne stammered, having not in a thousand years expected to see him here.  
"Hello is the word you're looking for." He supplied.  
"Yeah..err..hello."  
"Hi! And congrats again. So? Where's your bling? Let's see it."  
"I don't have it on me. It's in my room."  
"Really? I carried mine around for at least two weeks until I almost dropped it in a toilet."  
"Do you ever think that maybe you put too much information into sentences?"  
"Nah, not really. But I did fall on my head a few times over the span of my career so I will admit that my judgment may be a little off."  
"Speaking of which, don't you have a race tomorrow?"

  
A rhetorical question. Brienne knew exactly he had one; she'd looked it up earlier.  
"Meh. It's the 1500 metres. At my age, I'm a sprinter. I wouldn't make it past semis even if I were already sleeping now, it's more to get a better feel for the ice and yadayadayada, you know how it is. Sniff out the competition, let them think they won't have a problem with big old me. The 'lil crumb invited me to come here when I brought over the note, said she'd have a seat reserved, so I came."

  
That throwback to his note was a good opening to start to get to the bottom of things. Subtly, in case she was off about this whole thing.  
"You know..if I didn't know any better, I'd start to think you're seeking me out." Brienne said, going for being casual, but being quite nervous on the inside.  
"Well, that's because I am." Jaime said matter-of-factly, "I thought I was being rather obvious about it, too."

  
About the actual seeking her out, yes, probably. Not so much about the intention behind it.  
"Why?" Brienne decided to forego sublety for straight-forwardness.  
"What? I need reasons?" He asked with a laugh.  
"It would help me understand."  
"I find you interesting. Now, don't look at me like that, I really do. You remind me of myself when I was in my first games. You know, apart from the winning the very first race part."  
"Ah." Brienne said non-committally. So the whole thing was him wanting to pass on some advice to someone he found he could relate to and wanted to help out. Well, it made sense. She shouldn't be disappointed about it, but she was.  
"Yeah" Jaime continued, "Of course, the fact that you have the bluest eyes I've ever seen is nice too. Not to mention the way you look in your racesuit. It doesn't take much to throw you out of balance and then you start blushing and fidgeting, I find that endearing. I mean, sure, your taste in hats is questionable, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to get to know you better. Enough reasons for you?"  
"I...er...yes. Thank you." Brienne replied, feeling another of those blushes he'd just mentioned coming.  He'd just given her more compliments in one breath than any guy had ever done. And endearing? That was one word she'd never heard herself being described with. Suddenly she felt as if she'd just done a training session, judging by the sudden increase of her heart rate.  
"And.. would it be fair of me to assume that you wouldn't mind if I were to continue 'seeking you out' and maybe even upgrade that to 'taking you out for a meal'?"

  
Well, that was a fast development. But, Brienne definitely didn't want stop him to 'seek her out' and even during the Games one had to eat, right? Besides, she'd just won a gold medal and with it fulfilled a life-long ambition, so no one could her begrudge a little reward.  
"O-okay."  
"Excellent!" He beamed at her. "I will get back to you with details. So, does cake crumb have a decent shot at a medal here or are we just the motivation squad?"  
"Why do you keep calling her that?"  
"Cake crumb?" Jaime shrugged. "Well, you've seen her, right?"  
"Yeah?" Brienne replied, her eyes narrowing some. If this was going to have anything to do with Shireen's scarring, having given her compliments or not, she was going to unleash a tirade on Jaime like he'd never heard before.  
"Well, then you've seen that while she's sweet, she's way too short to be the whole cake. She's what? 5'1''?"  
"Oh." Okay, that was a very sweet explanation for the nickname and now she felt rather dumb. If he never found out why she'd asked, that was going to be fine with her.  
"Yeah, I me---wait a second. You thought I was being an ass about her..?" Jaime trailed off, pointing with his index finger to the side of his own face. He'd connected the dots fairly quickly, it appeared.  
"Sorry."  
"I'm not that shallow, you know? Besides, who would I be to talk what with my wrist being held together by screws and scars."  
"I'm truly sorry. I didn't mean..Shireen's a friend and she's only 15 and I feel rather protective and..I'm sorry."  
"Yeah, I got that the first time around. Apology accepted. No need to go self-flagellating yourself. It was a misunderstanding. I guess I'll just have to spend more time with you so that you can get a basis on which to judge my character on. It's not what I'd call a hardship. So? Cake crumb's chances?" Jaime repeated his earlier question while reaching into his pocket to retrieve a plastic case and subsequently putting on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. Now that was unfair. Stubble and glasses? How was anyone supposed to keep their wits about them when confronted with that? She inexplicably had a hard time enough already with the standard version of Jaime Lannister.  
"Err..I'm not an expert with figure skating. But I know that Shireen's the current junior world silver medalist."  
"Sounds promising enough."  
  
They chatted through the competition, discussing their likes and dislikes as far as music selections went, with Jaime giving more of his fashion advice about some of the more questionable costumes and cracking a few jokes here and there. Brienne soon relaxed, laughing along with him (but never at a skater's misfortune when they fell), and found herself having a wonderful time.

  
"Ooh nice. Triple foot-toecurl-loop."

  
Brienne threw her seat neighbor a look.  
"I said I'm not an expert at figure skating, but even I know that such a thing doesn't exist."  
"But it was a triple..whatever it was."  
"Yes Jaime. You can count to three. Well done."  
Upon hearing that praise, albeit mockingly as it had been given, Jaime turned to her.  
"Thanks, but I can do even more than that." He said with a crooked grin and a wink from behind his glasses, "Wait til you hear how fast I can spell my name."  
"Fast..that reminds me: In what universe do you actually believe you could be faster than me?" Brienne asked, going back to that post scriptum on his note.  
"Uh, in all of them?"  
"Didn't you say yourself earlier you're a sprinter?"  
"Well, obviously I'm talking about a sprint. Let's say 500 metres. We both know you'd beat me in a long distance race since I don't have the stamina for a long performance." Jaime explained, before throwing her a quick grin and adding, "At least not on the ice."

  
Brienne silently and fervently prayed she was not going to blush again. But apparently, the Gods were not listening.  
  
When Shireen was finally up at the beginning of the last group, both Jaime and Brienne cheered as loud as they could, even throwing in some stomping action just because. The youngster delivered an, from what they could tell with their non-existent knowledge of the sport, almost flawless routine, apart from a two-footed landing in her opening combination. Brienne held her thumbs the whole two and a half minutes Shireen was jumping, spinning and dancing over the ice. She reminded her of a pixie, all airy and lightfooted. There was nothing overacted about her performance, it looked completely natural and effortless. Even Jaime thought her music selection of the romantic theme from a movie Brienne hadn't seen worked really well for her, and he'd been rather harsh with some competitors and their selections. Watching Shireen in the kiss-and-cry area, awaiting her scores, Brienne had to smile when she saw her young friend clutching the little dragon she'd given her earlier while waving excitedly into the cameras. After having been around for the whole duration of the competition so far, one would think that the score of 68.42 points would mean something to Brienne, but she'd been so preoccupied with talking to Jaime she honestly had no idea if that was good or bad. Shireen herself seemed quite happy with it, though, so Brienne was too. By the end of the short program, it was indeed Sansa Stark who was leading the field, having skated perfectly and getting a new world record score of a little over 80 points for it. Of course, Brienne knew she was totally biased, but she'd enjoyed Shireen's performance, which ended up in 5th place after the short, a lot better, not that she'd ever say that to anyone but her roommate.

  
"Okay, I didn't like that overdramatic girl from The North."

  
Jaime obviously was not too shy to share his opinion.  
"She's apparently the big star."  
"She needs to learn to skate without flailing her arms so much. It's distracting as fuck" He grumbled. "Lil cake crumb was so much more enjoyable to watch."  
"I'll be sure to tell her. I'm sure it'll boost her confidence going into the free skate."  
"Please do. So? Are you going back to the village now?" Jaime asked, getting up and stretching.  
"I'm waiting for Shireen, I promised we'd ride the bus back together."  
"Oh. Well, I'd love to hang around and ride the late bus with you ladies, but I should really get back if I want a decent amount of sleep before the comp. Didn't know this was going to run so long, it said short program after all."  
"I know what you mean. My butt feels like it's gone flat from all the sitting." Brienne replied, getting up as well and doing a little stretch.  
"Now that would be a shame. Anyway, apart from those plastic seats, I had a lot of fun tonight."  
"Me too."  
"I'll get back to you about dinner. After all, I know where you live. Goodnight, Brienne."  
"Night Jaime. Good luck in your races tomorrow!"  
"Thanks! Wanna throw a little good-luck-hug in as well?" Jaime grinned, holding his arms apart, making encouraging hand gestures and waggling his eyebrows behind the glasses. Rolling her eyes with a smile, Brienne stepped up and put her arms loosely around him for a hug, pats on his back included, before she quickly stepped back again. Damn. This close he smelled even more amazing.  
"That'll definitely get me into the semifinals. Though I guess for me to win a medal you'd have to throw in a k--"  
"Good night, Jaime." Brienne interrupted, making Jaime laugh.  
"Alright, I can take a hint. Tell the little one I thought she was fantastic, will you? Night Queen Brienne, first of her name, speediest of speed skaters."

  
He gave her a bow and turned to leave. Brienne did the same only in the other direction to go and wait for Shireen at the entrance to the back area.  
"Oh hey Brienne!" Jaime called out to her just like he'd done the other day after her first race.  
"Yeah?" She asked, turning back around.  
"No worries, your butt has not gone flat. I just checked, it's still better than fine."  
As was to be expected, Brienne felt her cheeks instantly warming up.  
"That's...you're..." She spluttered. Jaime just laughed and finally left.

  
How did he always do that and catch her off-guard? And have the last word every time, too! Brienne decided that that wasn't going to do. Blushing was one thing, she'd always had that problem-slash-curse, but stuttering and fumbling for words in a conversation with a man was something that had never happened to her prior to meeting Jaime Lannister. She could hold her own against men. For the Gods' sakes, she'd even challenged a guy at the rink to a skate duel once when he's said something about her she took offense to! Not that she took offense to Jaime, just the opposite. But the catching her off-guard was unnerving and could not go on like that. Maybe it would get better with more exposure to him? Testing that theory surely couldn't hurt. Well. She had another day off tomorrow. Maybe she should in between practice sessions check out a short track competition, after all, Jaime had come to her competition too. See him race for a change.  
In a tight suit.

  
Brienne gulped.


	6. Chapter 6

The short track venue was pretty much on the other end of town compared to her own skating rink, so by the time Brienne got there after her morning practice the competition had already begun and the first two of nine preliminary heats had already taken place. A quick glance to the scoring board on the video wall told her that Jaime had not raced yet; at least his name wasn't showing anywhere. The audience, as they'd been in every competition she'd witnessed so far, was once more outstanding in their support of all the athletes. The house was full to the brim, no one was still in their seat, there was a sea of colorful flags of all the seven partaking states and the noise level was intense. And this was in between races. Brienne looked around for Jaime, but he was nowhere to be seen. It made sense; there wasn't a third lane on which skaters could warm up, the rink was much too small for that. All the warm-up was taking place somewhere in the back area of the arena and the racers only came out when it was their time to compete.

Taking her seat, or at least standing in front of it, Brienne watched the event. She had no idea if they'd let her into the back area, but she wasn't going to find out either and maybe make her presence known to Jaime. He deserved to be able to prepare for his competition in quiet; the Gods knew Brienne herself hated interruptions before her races. Besides, staying where she was, she had an opportunity to learn a little more about this sport that she'd never paid any attention to.

It was baffling that the whole event took place in one day. With the preliminaries, the semifinals and the finals, the skaters did three races over the span of only a few hours. The combined distance may not even have been that tough, after all, three 1,500 metres races came up to a little less than Brienne's own longest race of 5,000, but to get into the competition mindset three times in one day, hold the pressure between races and keep your muscles smooth and warm..it seemed like one hell of an effort. No wonder Jaime felt more comfortable with the shorter distances.

  
As the next heat was called up, Brienne saw more of the differences between her version of speed skating and its sister discipline. While the racers wore almost the same tight suits, save for the hood, they also wore helmets, gloves and neck protection. Remembering what Jaime had told her about his injury, how he'd suffered from quite a severe blood loss after having his hand artery spiked by a blade, the sheer existence of something like protective neck gear made Brienne swallow hard. These things wouldn't exist if they'd been needed in the past.

Looking at the track, it seemed that wayward blades were probably not a rarity, either. With its length of only about 111 compared to the 400 meter laps of a classic speed skating track it seemed tiny and as if it could get very easily very cramped down there. Especially, if, as it was going to be here, six skaters took part in one race at the same time.

As it quickly turned out, Brienne was completely right. The two heats she saw before the competition was interrupted for the first ice refreshing had two falls and three disqualifications due to impeding of an opponent or skating inside the border.

The track was small, there were so many factors that decided upon a winner apart from their general fitness, and Brienne didn't understand how or why no one ever got dizzy when the skaters barely took three glides before going into yet another bend, but there was something about the whole thing. It was fast-paced and exciting.

  
It was the fifth heat, right after the ice break, when Jaime made his appearance. Brienne didn't even need the announcer to call up his name, she knew immediately it was him when he stepped out onto the ice. He wore a crimson racesuit with the stenciled image of a lion's head on the back above his name, his clear sunglasses dangling from between his lips. And damn if he didn't look good in that tight suit. Of course, Brienne had known the racesuits left little to the imagination, seeing as she wore one almost every day as well and seen a lot of them already today and during practice with guys, but usually she never really cared to look below any neckline. They were just clothes one wore to compete, equipment like her skates or glasses. She was definitely looking below the neckline now that Jaime was preparing for his race. A broad chest, strong, muscular thighs, and, as a quick glance confirmed, his butt too was anything but flat. Sport really could do a body good.  His golden hair was hidden under a blue helmet with the number 393 on it and he waved at the audience as he was introduced while skating a lap around the rink, looking completely at ease. His confidence was really attractive. Brienne pulled her sweater away from the throat to get some cool air.

  
She crossed her fingers for him when the skaters made it to the pre-start line. Jaime, now finally wearing his glasses where they were supposed to go, heaved a deep breath and got into position as the judge called 'ready'.  Then the shot rang and they were off to 14 rounds around the oval.

  
Jaime seemed to have gotten a decent start, but after having watched only two races, Brienne could hardly call herself an expert. He was in the middle of the pack racing around the track. Into the bend, two steps, one long glide and back into the other bend. When the race was about halfway, he was still in fourth position. Only the first two of each heat qualified for the next round, why was he not attacking? When the skaters passed by her section the next time, the one who'd been in last place up until now decided that he'd had enough of being last and, skating a little to the side so as to have more room, increased his speed. He overtook the guy in front of him within half a round and was now directly behind Jaime. As he was preparing to overtake him as well, Jaime finally kicked it up a gear. He held against the attack and since he was still ahead of fifth-place-guy could fair and square cut off his way going into the next bend. Pushing out of that, Jaime forced his own speed even more. Three laps to the finish he'd overtaken the guy in front of him and was now in third place, lying in wait to attack the second position. Brienne was so nervous she got all fidgety, bobbing up and down while clapping so hard her hands hurt.

  
The bell for last round rang and the first three racers were still close together. The guy who was in first place didn't seem to want to leave anything up to chance and forced the pace once more, breaking away. Jaime had to do something or else he wasn't going to advance to the next round. He bid his time, not doing anything but keep up and not lose important metres as they went into the first bend and onto the opposite straight. When they got to the last bend, he skated as close to the track markers as he could without touching any of them and managed to skate the bend in an incredible radius which allowed him to shoot out of it like a bullet, almost slamming into the skater in front of him. They were on the final straight now. The skater who'd been in front the whole time, a guy from The Reach judging by his suit, crossed the finish line, raising his arms in victory. Brienne couldn't have cared less. Her eyes were glued to Jaime and the guy in front of him who were practically on one level now. It wasn't going to be more than 10 metres to the finish line! Jaime threw himself forward and put his skate forward as they crossed the line together. Brienne's gaze snapped to the video wall. There was no placement coming up behind his name and the other guy's, only the word _'photo'_. That was no help for her nerves!

  
Looking back down onto the ice, her eyes followed Jaime as he skated around the rink another time to bring down his speed. He was breathing hard, pushing the air out from between gritted teeth, wincing. Taking his helmet off, he too focused on the video wall now, awaiting the result of the photo finish. When it finally came, he threw his arms up and gave a _whoop!_. He'd come in second place and would advance.

Brienne exhaled slowly. That had been a nail biter alright. And at least one more was to come.

  
The skaters were quickly ushered off the ice to make room for the next heat and Brienne left her seat for the moment to hurry down to the rinkside by the exit. There was still a six-foot-wide corridor filled with volunteers, camera men and other people separating her from the actual rink, but it was close enough to be heard since Jaime's head immediately snapped up, looking around when she called his name. He gave her a huge grin and shouted back that she should stay where she was, he'd come right out. It took about five minutes until he returned, now already wearing his warmer fleece clothes to keep his muscles warm.

  
"Brienne!" He exclaimed, pulling her into a hug, "Why didn't you tell me you were going to be here? I could've had my coach try and get you a better seat."  
"Oh, that's fine. There are usually no tall people in front of me blocking my view; more so that I'm the taller person blocking theirs." Brienne replied when he'd released her.   
"So you saw everything?"  
"Yeah! You were giving my blood pressure quite the workout."  
"Yours and mine both, trust me."  
"You were awesome, though! The way you kept your cool, waiting for just the right time.."  
"Aww, thanks. That's when the age comes in handy, I guess. I have about twelve years competition experience on that Umber kid. But it was a tough one. I'm ready to go out next round."  
"Maybe you won't" Brienne encouraged him, but Jaime waved it off.  
"Nah, this is just warm-up for the 1000 and 500. It's fine. I knew that before coming here. And it's actually better if I don't risk my shot there by powering out myself later today just to make a final I'd have no chance in."  
"Well, you're the expert, so I'm going to take your word for it. I'm not going to disturb you a lot longer either way, just wanted to say hello."  
"I'm happy that you did. So, having fun with the relaxing?"  
"I am! It's still chaotic and I wouldn't ever want to do it, but to watch is highly entertaining."  
"I'll make a fan out of you yet. How's lil cake crumb today?"  
"Oh she's happy. Fifth place, it turns out, was better than what she anticipated and she says she's ready to attack the bronze spot."  
"That's not today though, is it?"  
"No, tomorrow."  
"Oh good. That means you're free tonight, right?"  
"Uh...yeah?"  
"Excellent. Meet me by the bus stop in front of the Westerlands House at seven?"

Damn, he was already catching her off-guard again, being so forward. Brienne refused to let that happen and forced herself to be calm. She wanted to go to dinner with him after all.

"I..can do that."  
"Then I'll see you there." Jaime said before throwing her an apologetic look. "I'm really sorry, but I have to go now."  
"It's okay. I know you don't have time."  
"Coach wants to analyze the race."  
"They love to do that, I know" Brienne nodded.  
"Yeah... It was great of you to stop by, though."  
"Sure thing. And good luck for the semis."  
"Thanks. Well...bye."

Jaime shot forward to steal another short hug and turned to leave. But this time Brienne was prepared. This time she called after him for a change when he was about to disappear in the underbelly of the arena again.  
"Jaime?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I'm really looking forward to later."  
"What a coincidence, me too!" He replied smiling before ducking out of her view.

Well, he'd gotten the last word again. But since they'd meet again later, it didn't really count, did it?  
  
She sadly didn't have enough time to stay for the semifinals as well, so after the first round of races was finished, Brienne rode the bus back to the village and after lunch from there to her afternoon practice. When the time came at which the semifinals were supposed to start, she called out to Mister Goodwyn for a break and went to watch on the television. As he'd predicted, Jaime didn't advance to the finals, coming in fourth in his semi. He didn't look too sad about it, though.

Returning home, Brienne skipped the dining hall since she was going to eat later with Jaime and went straight to the physio therapist. Upon returning to her room she went for a nice, long, relaxing shower before standing in front of her suitcase, wrapped in a towel, trying to answer the age-old question of: What am I going to wear?   
In the end, since wherever they went was going to be within the village, Brienne decided on simple black jeans and a blue sweater. Not because he'd said that blue was her color, it just happened to be her favorite as well. From there it wasn't long until she was ready to go. She never wore make up and her blonde hair was too short to do much in terms of styling. Not that she would've done either of that if she'd had the resources or know-how. Just like Shireen had said about herself the other day, Brienne too was who she was and not about to change for anyone. More so, Jaime had met her the way she was and apparently that was the way he liked her. Foregoing the pink ski jacket and putting on the dark blue parka she'd worn on the trip to King's Landing, she wrote a quick note to her roommate and was out of the door by 6:50.


	7. Chapter 7

Jaime was already there at the bus stop, waiting for her, although Brienne needed a second to recognize him without the red Westerlands outfit she'd come to expect him in and that he'd ditched in favor of a chocolate brown suede jacket, jeans and a black beanie.

"Ah, good, you're incognito!" He greeted Brienne with a big smile,  "When I got here, I realized I forgot earlier to tell you not to wear your Stormlands stuff."  
"Why's that?" Brienne asked, with a little confusion.  
"Because we're flying under the radar." He replied cryptically with a wink. Now that didn't help with the confusion.  
"Pardon me?"  
"Well, obviously I don't know about the Stormlands dining hall, but the one for the Westerlands must have a serious shortness of spices because everything there tastes like cardboard. Therefore, we're ditching the village and venture out to find Hot Pie's Pizza Palace. Don't worry, we don't actually have to find it, I know where it is, been there while was here on a few world cup meets."  
"Leave the village?"  
"I mean, if it's okay with you? If you'd rather stay here, we could.." He trailed off, scratching his head and quickly dropping his hand when he realized he was scratching his beanie instead, "..it was just an idea."  
"No, it's fine!" Brienne hurried to say,  "It's a great idea, actually. I haven't really seen anything of King's Landing so far except for whatever we drive by on the way to a venue. Besides, I've been told to kick back and relax in between my competitions and that's going to be a lot easier away from this place."  
"You know, that sounds like some stellar advice you were given." Jaime said, now his self-assured self again, "You look nice, by the way."  
"Thanks. You..er..too."

Jaime rubbed his hand over his cheek, shrugging.  
"I wanted to get rid of that shrubbery on my face for the occasion, but as they say: He who shaveth, loseth. And before you ask, it's prep for the 500; that last race doesn't count on account of me not having gone all in."  
"I watched it at the rink. You weren't in a bad position in the pack, you could've gone for it."  
"I told you it would've been in vain. You would've though, wouldn't you?"  
"Of course" Brienne replied instantly, as the bus rolled up. It was always better to know rather than to have to wonder what-would-have-been-if. Having no chance didn't mean you couldn't try to make it into one. Jaime threw her a sideways look while gesturing for Brienne to enter first.  
"Anyone ever tell you you're stubborn?"  
"One or two times..a week."  
"Sounds about right."  
  
They rode the bus out of the village to the city center and from there Jaime led them on a short five minute walk towards their destination, all the while having an easygoing conversation about this and that and everything in between. It was nice to be out of the village and away from being confronted with sports wherever you looked or whatever you heard for a change. Obviously, Brienne enjoyed the Games a lot, but seeing those interlocked heptagons no matter where you turned your eyes to could get a bit much. Besides, they weren't athletes representing their states right now, they were just a man and a woman looking for a good meal.

Hot Pie's Pizza Palace turned out to be not so much palace-sized. In fact it was a rather small restaurant, almost hidden in a narrow side lane close to the town center. It was very comfy, though. Family-style. There were red-and-white checkered cloths on the tables, the centerpiece for each one consisting of a lit candle in an old wine bottle, a glass full of breadsticks, and on the wall there was a larger-than-life mural of a rather heavy young man with a chef's hat and apron, grinning proudly down at the image of a steaming pizza pie. Brienne instantly liked it here.

They ordered and continued their current conversation about the places they'd seen while on travels for skate meetings and where they'd liked it best, making small breaks every few moments to take a bite of their food once the waiter brought it.

"Riverrun is beautiful. All lush greenery, little brooks, and the sushi is amazing. You really need to check that one place, I think it's called Sakana, out next season if you get there."  
"Actually, once this season is finished, I will announce my retirement." Jaime announced nonchalantly as if that statement weren't an important one, calmly taking another bite from his pasta.  
"What?" Brienne set the glass of water she'd just lifted to take a drink back down again.  
"Continuing really would only make sense if I were going to aim for the next games, and I don't think I have another quad in me. I'll be thirty this summer. Don't get me wrong: I'm fully convinced I still got a good race or two in me, otherwise I wouldn't be here, but not four years of them. I'm at a good place with my career; quitting now would be my decision, and my decision definitely is to go out on a high note."  
"What are you going to do?"

Somehow the thought of Jaime, even though she hadn't followed his career, hanging up his skates for good made her sad. He seemed to have so much fun with his sport. Skating was such a huge part of her, Brienne could hardly imagine stopping. Of course, she knew the day was going to come eventually, but she was quite happy it was a day that was, barring injuries, going to be one far away in the future that needn't to be thought of yet.

"Short-term? Move up to The North. I want to get my coaching license and Winterfell Academy offered me the opportunity, plus once I've obtained it a job as assistant coach. Long-term I'd like to coach kids, pass on my well of knowledge and live vicariously through them once they grow up and totally end up dominating the scene."  
"I train in Winterfell!"  
"Really?" Jaime asked, his face lighting up.  
"Yeah! I moved there for college. It's just the best training facility if you want to do both, school and professional training. They have eight major ice rinks in the city, three for speeders and five for the other ice sports, so you always get a good practice slot somewhere that doesn't interfere with your classes. And the university up there is very accomodating if it happens anyway."  
"And what are your plans once you finish college? Move back home or..?"  
"I finished last year. And I'm staying in Winterfell for the time being. Took off this year to fully prepare for the games, but I'll start grad school next fall, going for my master's."  
"In what field?"  
"I thought you liked to riddle things out for yourself?" Brienne asked teasingly.  
"Pfft. Not when there's a zillion different things one can study. Guessing someone's sport at the Winter Games has limited options. It was rather certain you weren't a swimmer on account of no one having made ice water swimming an event yet."  
"Flawless logic."  
"I know. So?"  
"History. I study history. I know, probably not very exciting, but I always have been interested in it."  
"It doesn't have to be exciting as long as it makes you happy."  
"My dad secretly would've loved for me to go to law school, continue the family tradion and eventually, one day, be a judge, but I never could see myself doing that. I like museums, not courtrooms. He accepted that."  
"Yeah? Mine wanted me to quit after my first games, said since I'd reached the top and fulfilled all the goals, it was time to go to business school and learn how to run a company so that I could take over his legacy one day. I told him my legacy was to be the most successful short track skater in the world. Youthful optimism, I guess, injuring myself or just going through a bad phase didn't even occur to me. We didn't really speak for a few years, it was quite peaceful.."  
"Oh no."

Brienne couldn't imagine being not close to her father; even though they didn't see all that much of each other, her being in The North and him back in Evenfall, there wasn't a week where they didn't have at least one long phone call.

"It's gotten better. As it turned out, my younger brother was ready to pick up on the business legacy front. He's a natural at brokering deals. Seeing that the company would be safe for another generation, my father's mellowed out somewhat."  
"So your brother is not another future world champion in sports?"  
"Hardly. Tyrion doesn't give a lick about sports unless you count binge-drinking and bedroom aerobics. How did you start speed skating?"

"Actually" Brienne began, leaning back in her seat, "I wanted to play ice hockey, and I still think I would've been good at it, but there was no girl's team in my hometown. I was not interested in glittery dresses or spinning prettily, so figure skating was not for me. Was too tall for it anyway. But the idea of gliding over the ice, you know, all fast with the wind whipping in my face, was very intriguing to my younger self I guess, because apparently I kept nagging at my dad until he took me to the rink one day, or so he tells it. I met my coach, Mister Goodwyn, who let me onto the ice while his actual students were taking a break. When my half hour was up, I knew I had to come back. You?"  
"After having been kicked out of several football and baseball kiddie league teams, the parental decree was that single sports were probably the better way for me. Now as you know, the Westerlands are traditionally better with summer sports, so naturally I decided I wanted to do something wintery."  
"Naturally."  
"Only stipulation was that it had to be indoors, since we don't have guaranteed snow all winter. Saw short track on tv and the rest is history."  
"Good thing you didn't see curling on tv. Oh wait, team sport."  
"Hey, don't knock curling, it's a lot more interesting than most people give it credit for. Besides, I would've so rocked those plaid pants our curling teams are wearing."

Though she didn't say so, Brienne was tempted to agree. To be fair though, he would've probably also 'rocked' a potato sack. Or the, as he called it, 'ugly hat'. Which reminded her..  
"Speaking of clothing, why are you obsessed with my hat? You mention it quite often."  
"It doesn't do you any favors."  
"Very few things do." Brienne gave back with a shrug.  
"It distracts from your face."  
"There are people that would consider that a good thing."  
"Yeah? Screw them. I happen to like your face."  
"You don't have to spare my feelings. We both know how I look."  
"Yes we do and excuse me, are we on a date or not? I thought I'd made myself clear in conveying this is not an outing of best buddies."

Brienne's gaze must have still been sceptical, because Jaime continued, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  
"You want me to be brutally honest?" He asked, "Okay, I can do that. Whoever set your nose after it broke didn't do a very good job, you definitely got rid of your braces too soon and someone, somewhen, should've introduced you to a little thing called hair gel. But that's just superficial stuff, if you wanted to, you could change it all. Not that you ever should, mind you. It would make you just another one out of many. I happen to like your freckles, you have cute ears and your eyes... In a drop dead gorgeous face your astonishing eyes would not stand out as they deserve, they'd get lost, be just one of many pretty features; not the...sapphires...they are."

"They're just eyes." Brienne mumbled, feeling a rather familiar warmth rising in her cheeks.

"I still like it when they look at me. They're what drew me in to come talk to you on that first day, you know? At first, I just saw another pink abomination, and by that I mean your jacket. Then you glanced in my direction, with that wide eyed innocent look of wonder and awe of being there, in the Games, and I wanted to talk to you. When you had a sassy comeback to the flamingo thing, especially in combination with that shy blushing thing you do, I was intrigued. You're full of these contradictions. Passionate yet reserved, completely self-assured on the ice and a pretty cute mess off the ice, tough yet soft... I may not always have a very good verbal filter, but I have very good instincts that I always try to listen to. They told me it would be a good thing to get to know you. And they were right."  
"I..don't really know what to say now.."

The blush was contained to her face, but the warm feeling from her cheeks had spread all over Brienne's body.  
"You don't have to say anything. Just maybe remember what I said. Not for me or anyone else. For you."  
"I will." Brienne vowed.  
"Good. P.S: You also have a banging body." Jaime added with a wink, to make things lighter again. "Now, since we still have a little time before we have to get back: How about I get the check and we go for some ice cream?"  
"It's january."  
"Not a valid reason to reject a good chocolate fudge. Sorry."  
  
After another little walk through the not so busy side streets of King's Landing, they ended up at an ice cream parlour where Jaime happily got himself three scoops of weird ice cream combinations. Brienne stuck to a single scoop of vanilla; eating ice cream outside in winter seemed a bit freaky to her, but she felt that tonight was a good time to try out something new.

When they got off the bus back in the village, Brienne was sad to have the evening end and say goodbye already. Jaime apparently agreed because he did not say goodbye but just gestured for her to walk to the Stormlands apartment building, falling in step next to her.

"What kind of crap date would I be if I didn't walk you home?"  
"You were a very good date. I had a lot of fun tonight."

So much so, Brienne was willing to put tonight on a shared first place with the night she'd been awarded her medal as far as 'best evening during the games' went. Albeit for totally different reasons, of course.

"Good! That's good. Me too! So.. does that mean we can do that again some time soon? Now that we'll live in the same city and all?"  
"I.. think I'd like that." A lot.  
"Excellent. You can show me all of Winterfell's hidden gems. That should keep us busy for a few months since I imagine they're very well hidden under all that snow."

After the elevator ride up to her floor, Brienne turned to Jaime.  
"We better say goodbye here. I'm going to have to be very quiet going in. Shireen's competition is tomorrow, she's probably already asleep."  
"Gotcha. So.." He trailed off, biting his lip.

"So..." Brienne repeated. There was a pause where neither said anything. Oh Gods. This was getting awkward all of a sudden. Did he want a kiss? Was he expecting one? Should she wait for him to make a move or initiate it herself? What if she did and he didn't want one? And more important than all of that, what did she want? Not in general, but right now? Brienne felt a little bit overwhelmed. She wasn't completely without experience, had had a few kisses, but never on a first date. She really ought to have thought about the end of the night a little bit in preparation.

Sensing her indecision, Jaime simply leaned in for a hug, one that she returned tightly.  
"Good night, Jaime. Thanks for tonight."  
"Trust me, the pleasure was all mine. Good night, Brienne."

After a few moments more, Brienne let go. Jaime did too, both of them reluctantly, it seemed.  
"If I don't see you tomorrow, good luck for the 5k."  
"Ditto. For your race, that is. Give them hell."  
"That's the plan." Jaime smirked, stepping into the elevator.

Brienne stayed where she was until the elevator doors closed and took him out of her view. Then she walked down the hallway, quietly snuck in, closed the door and leaned against it, very much tempted to give an uncharacteristic girly sigh. That had hands down been the very best date she'd ever been on.  
Suddenly, a bedside lamp was being clicked on, casting a dim glow over the room. Brienne's startled gaze snapped to the direction of their beds, where a 15 year old severe case of bed hair was looking tiredly, yet expectantly at her.

"Tell me everything!"


	8. Chapter 8

Brienne didn't tell her young friend everything, but some of her evening with Jaime. Details such as the kiss-or-no-kiss moment, which in retrospective she'd decided should've become a kiss-moment after all, she kept to herself. That belonged to her alone. Regardless, Shireen practically swooned at Brienne's retelling of how much her and Jaime had laughed together, how time had flown and also how he had called her eyes _sapphires_ before calling him a keeper and finally happily drifting off to sleep again. Brienne herself lay awake quite a while longer, she couldn't help it, she was giddy. Who would have ever guessed that she'd come to King's Landing for the Games and achieve not only her dreams, but also meet someone? And soon they'd even live in the same city, so they could get to see a whole lot more of each other if they wanted to. It was almost too good to be true. In the end, she had to give herself a stern talking to in order to finally clear her head and go to sleep.

  
Getting up the next morning, Brienne held some hope to see Jaime around today, but wasn't actually banking on it. They both had a competition tomorrow, her last and his second, and the day before was important. She thought she'd seen him on a bus going in the opposite direction when she returned from morning practice, but it could've also been her eyes playing a trick on her. There were a lot of Westerland athletes around here, after all. When she returned to the rink after her mid-day break, she gave herself another stern talking to, to put more focus on her practice for tomorrow and not to look for certain blonde short track skaters.

After her training unit, which went a lot better than the one in the morning, Brienne, before grabbing dinner at dining hall, made sure to get back in time to wish Shireen the best of luck before the younger girl left for her competition. She wasn't going to be able to go and watch her friend compete live tonight, but she was going to take a break from ostrich-ing to turn on the tiny tv set in their room for the last group. After all, she'd promised.

Brienne wasn't going to admit that she was maybe a little dawdling in her walk to and from her physical therapy massage appointment, but she definitely took her sweet time getting from her room to the Stormlands medical center and back. Alas, it was in vain because Jaime was nowhere to be seen. He apparently, unlike her it seemed, prepared for his competition like a professional. She ought to really use that as an example.

After calling her dad, Brienne, listening to the same pre-race mix she always did,  began her routine of pulling the blanket over her head and trying to clear her mind. There were a few close calls when a random thought about last night popped up, but she managed to shut those down quickly. For the most part.

  
Shireen again delivered an outstanding performance, only got an edge call on something called a lutz, whatever that meant. Brienne didn't see it, not even in the slo-mo, but took the commentator's word for it.  She was sure Jaime would've had a few choice words about that edge call, too. She kinda missed his commentary on the skaters. Sansa Stark, of the flailing arms, fell on a combination but her advantage from the short program saved her from losing the gold medal to a skater from The Reach, a very pretty girl named Margaery Something. When the final result popped up on the tv, Brienne gave a shout and fist-pumped. Her roommate had, with the close margin of 0.17 points snatched the bronze medal over Jeyne Westerling from the Westerlands.

Grabbing her phone, Brienne immediately fired off a congratulatory text, since they wouldn't see each other again tonight. Even without potential press conference and flower ceremony, Shireen was going to be very late and therefore had already in advance made preparations to spend the night in her father's quarters, so as to not disturb Brienne's sleep. Sleep she, thankfully, found quicker than expected judged from the way her mind had jumped all over the place today.

  
There was no way she was going to make it to Jaime's competition or he to hers, because the time slots were overlapping. Especially, if she ended up winning a medal in her 5,000 metres event which was a real possibility, if she managed to concentrate. Hers was the fourth best qualification time after all.

Going through her regular routines at the venue, Mister Goodwyn found her yet again when she was working on the spinning bike.  
"So, kid...the last one."  
"Yeah.."   
"Feeling tired?"  
"No, it's okay. My muscles are fine. It's the head I'm worried about."  
"How so?"  
"I..have a little trouble focusing lately" She admitted, without admitting the real reason why.  
"You've won the 3000. We always said we'd aim for one medal plus bonus. Whatever happens, happens. As long as your feet and your heart are ready, you've got nothing to worry about, the brain will follow." Her coach narrowed his eyes. "You're not going to make me tell you how you're not going to fall again, are you?"  
"No. I'm fairly positive that won't happen" Brienne replied with a tiny smile.  
"Good. It's been an intense two weeks, hasn't it?"  
"Definitely."  
"You've handled everything like a professional. Being tossed into this giant...chaos of people and competitions. It can't have been easy, after all, we're kind of smalltown, you and I. Remember how we thought the world championships were intimidatingly big? That was a family picknick compared to this madhouse."  
"In that case, it was the scariest picknick I ever attended."  
"And still you didn't let it get to you, you did your job and won a world's bronze. You'll do your job today as well, no matter what your head does. I know you. You've never let anything or anyone stand in your way, least of all yourself, you're driven and, not to be a suck-up or anything, you're kind of any coach's dream. Never late for practice, never complaining. Paying me on time.." Her coach trailed off with a wink, before turning serious again.  
"It's always been a pleasure to work with you, Brienne. From Evenfall to here. An honor."  
"Thank you Ser." Brienne replied, swallowing around the lump in her throat. "It's been an honor for me as well. But, quite frankly, now you're making me nervous again. It sounds as if you're planning your retirement."  
"Hardly." Mister Goodwyn chuckled, "I'm here for you and I will be here for you as long as you compete. I just felt like I needed to tell you. Now go out there and show them how it's done."

Brienne nodded and got off the spinning bike, thinking to herself that her coach was really, really good at the motivating speeches. She was ready to do this now. For herself and for him. Mister Goodwyn was right; she'd won her medal already, what could happen? Worst case scenario was ending up off the podium. She had nothing to lose here.

  
Her opponent this time was a newcomer that had only recently moved to The North, Ygritte Wylde. They'd never faced off against each other and so, even though with the third best qualification time, she was a bit of a wild card. Brienne got the inside lane to start from and therefore the outside lane to finish in, but on this distance that wasn't going to be a deciding factor. She could even afford a less than stellar starting time. Twisting her neck in this direction and then that, slapping her thighs for good measure, she took her spot by the start.

Ygritte fell back early in the race; by the time they reached the half-distance, Brienne was racing more against the clock than the skater on the ice with her. It could be quite deceptive when an opponent was so far behind, leading to think one was faster than one actually was only to be shocked with bad lap times when the coach came into view holding up their board. Brienne had to make sure that wouldn't happen to her and focused on making the same strong glides with every step, not letting up. There were no more competitions for her after this one, no reason to hold anything back. As Mister Goodwyn had predicted, her brain followed her feet and her fighting spirit and her lap times were consistently good. When the bell for last round rang, she even felt that she had enough stamina to force speed.  
Crossing the finish line and looking up at the board, Brienne saw that she was first in the current standings and with only one pair to skate after her, that meant at least the bronze medal was already hers which made her throw her fists in the air.

"Told you, kid!" Goodwyn happily exclaimed when she skated over for a high five and a hug.  
"It's not over yet" Brienne cautioned.

A valid warning as it turned out because Yara Greyjoy, Brienne's opponent in the first race, who'd come in third there and who'd withdrawn from the 3,000 metres event to save energy for the distance she felt her chances were bigger in, broke the world record, snatching the gold medal away from her. Well, that was unpleasant of course, but seeing as there had been three skaters with better qualification times than her, and especially with all that nerve-fluttering going on, Brienne truly felt that she'd won the silver, not lost the gold. This had been a whole different experience for her, for the first time ever she hadn't managed to block everything out during a race, hadn't found her 'zone', and still she was walking away from it with a medal. That was a win too, albeit of another kind.

She got to enjoy the flower ceremony a lot more this second time around, seeing as her mind wasn't all that blank and even managed a small wave and a smile right before stepping onto the podium for her dad back home, who was definitely watching. Okay, maybe it also was for Shireen, and Jaime, should he see it.

There was no time to check on his competition with the press conference and yet another doping test, but as soon as Brienne finally was back on the bus to her lodgings, she whipped out her phone.  
Pulling up the Games' website, Brienne anxiously checked the short track results. Jaime had made it to the final, and unfortunately it was going to take place right when she was supposed to be on medal plaza. She really wished she could send him a good luck message, but since they saw each other almost daily, neither of them had ever thought to exchange phone numbers. That would have to be remedied some time soon. Since there was no way to reach him, Brienne had to leave it at good thoughts and holding her thumbs, and she squeezed those digits nonstop on the way to the victory ceremony.

Freshly decorated with her shiny silver medal, Brienne went backstage in search of a video screen broadcasting from the short track venue. The race was already underway. Six skaters were on the track, right in the first bend of round six out of ten. There were two of the crimson Westerlands suits in the pack right in front of each other, but she immediately recognized the one in fourth place as Jaime. Once more suppressing blood flow to her thumbs by pressing them as hard as she could, Brienne watched with bated breath how the end of the race unfolded.

It was a close thing. The only one who was guaranteed anything was the leader, his suit marking him as from The North, which was two steps ahead of the rest of the field. As they went into the last lap, the three men following him were basically on the same level. Before the last bend, Jaime stepped out of the line they were forming, to have room to overtake the skater in front of him. But the guy fought back as they got to the straight.

Jaime threw his foot forward for the finish, on the same level with the skater in front of him, his friend from the other day when he'd invited Brienne to come along to medal plaza, as she'd meanwhile realized. While the winner, a Jon Snow from The North, calmly sped around the rink once more to bring down his speed gently, not really showing any emotion over just having achieved a gold medal in the Winter Games, Jaime and his friend had their eyes glued to the video wall, where once more the word photo was blinking behind both their names.

"Come on, come on..." Brienne mumbled under her breath, willing the computers to finally spit out the result. Thirty seconds later she was willing to take that back.

  
_1 (9943)  SNOW, Jon (N) 1:24.145 WGR_   
_2 (10123) TARLY, Dickon (R) 1:25.194_   
_3(5897)  MARBRAND, Addam (W) 1:25.317_   
_4 (4862)  LANNISTER, Jaime (W) 1:25.318_

  
He'd lost the bronze by one thousandth of a second. Now that was...Brienne usually didn't like to curse, but right now she could think of quite a slew of words one shouldn't mention in polite company. When a race was that close, it really wouldn't kill the officials to award two medals, they'd been on the same level for the seven's sakes!

Addam Marbrand threw his fist in the air in excitement, skating over the the rinkside where someone threw him a flag of the Westerlands which he held behind his back as he went off to a victory lap, his face happier than that of the actual winner. Jaime, before the camera lost him to focus on the medalists stood there, angling his head to the side, breathing deeply and just looking at the official result. He obviously and naturally was very disappointed but after a moment was sportsman enough to congratulate his team mate with a quick hug and pats on the back once Addam had finished his celebrating laps. Then he made way for the volunteers preparing the ice for the flower ceremony and left the rink to go backstage, his shoulders a little hunched.

  
Stannis Baratheon came up to her, informing Brienne that he would be looking forward to seeing her at the Stormlands house for a little celebration in honor of her silver medal. Brienne non-committally nodded. She was going to do her duty and make an appearance, but there were other places she felt she needed to be first. Ever since she'd met him, Jaime had always been in such a good mood, seeing him sad like that just wasn't right. And maybe she wouldn't be able to cheer him up, but she definitely was going to try.

Driving back to the village, Brienne got off the bus a station earlier than usual and went straight to the Westerlands apartment complex. She had no idea where Jaime's room actually was in there, but some friendly soul would surely be able to help her out with that. When she got to the door with the right number on the fifth floor and knocked, a burly man opened, not really saying anything but at least answering her question of whether Jaime was back yet with a shake of his head before closing the door again. Brienne leaned against the wall next to the door, eventually sliding down to the floor, waiting.

It took about half an hour before the elevator pinged an arrival. Jaime stepped out, digging in his backpack for his keys. Brienne got up from her sitting position, the movement making him aware of someone's presence.

"Brienne?" He asked surprised, but not unhappy as he sped up his steps down the corridor. "How did you get here?"   
"I just wanted to...you know..say hi." Brienne replied as they hugged.  
"Hi!" Jaime beamed at her. "Uh..I'd ask you to come in but then you'd have to meet hockey guy and he's not really of a sunny disposition if you know what I mean."  
"I know, I think he grunted a hello in my direction. It's fine, I know you've had a long day and the 500 tomorrow, so I won't be long. I just wanted..well, stop by."  
"I'm glad you're here." He replied with a smile. Brienne was glad seeing it. Not because he was glad seeing her, well that obviously too, but simply because Jaime, in his normal state, was indeed of a sunny disposition and should always smile.  "My day just got better."

Brienne winced.

"I watched your race earlier."  
Now the smile slowly slid off Jaime's face and he heaved a sigh.  
"Did that suck or what?"  
"I'm sorry." Brienne offered. Jaime shrugged helplessly.  
"I really thought I had him."  
"You did! They had to use a photo to determine who was third. It could've gone either way" Brienne tried to tell him something positive, but of course it wouldn't be helping much. Her having someone be faster earlier today still had given her a silver medal, for Jaime having someone be faster meant he was ending the day empty-handed.

"That's what I get for having these dainty size ten feet." He tried to go for humor.  
"Ten? Your feet are smaller than mine."  
"It's probably not very gentlemanly of me to say so, but I kinda already figured that."  
"Gentlemanly perhaps not, but honest. I'll take honesty over gentlemanly any day."  
"Good to know, since I have that faulty verbal filter." Jaime said with a smile, before  changing back the topic, sighing.  
"If I had to lose to someone, I'm...well, I'm not glad it was Addam, but gladder than I would've been with anyone else."  
"You have one shot still."  
"That I do. My last hurrah in the Games. The extra day beard growth should help" He winked. "Are you going to come watch?"  
"Definitely."

Watch, cheer, clap like a maniac...

"Great! Okay, then let's stop talking about my 1000, let's talk about something pleasant instead to end the day with. I didn't get to see your race, but I saw the results. Congratulations!"  
"Er..thanks."  
"What's the matter?"  
"Nothing. I just..it feels weird talking about my winning a medal when you.."  
"It shouldn't. Your achievements are your achievements. Never downplay them, for nothing and for no one. You worked hard for this medal and it's the highlight of both our day, so let's be happy about it. And as a side note: I have no problem going out with a woman more successful than me, I'm a modern guy. Did you come here straight from the medal ceremony?" Jaime asked, pointing to her top-to-bottom Stormlands outfit.  
"Yeah."  
"So you have it on you? The medal? May I see?"

Brienne nodded, reaching into her jacket's pocket, pulling out the silver and holding it out to Jaime. He hesitated for a moment, but at her encouraging nod took it out of her hand, weighing it.

"Wow, these things still are really heavy. I don't know about yours, but in our world championships the medals are tiny compared to this here. Ribbon is nice too, juicy purple. My gold from Pyke has this dirt grey ribbon, it looks rather drab." Looking at the medal once more before handing it back, he quietly added, "It's beautiful," leaving open of which of the two mentioned medals he was thinking.

Brienne wanted to tell him he'd get his own tomorrow, but it would've been an empty line. There was no way of telling how the event would go for him, and she also didn't want to be patronizing, so she kept her mouth shut. Jaime scratched his head.

"Listen: I hate to do this, since you came all the way and I'd really like to spend more time with you, but I'm completely knackered and I have to be up and about by six..."  
"Of course. I completely understand. I'll let you be."  
"But it was really lovely to see you. Honestly."  
"Likewise. Good luck for tomorrow, Jaime. I'll see you there" Brienne said, leaning in for another hug.  
"Thank you." Jaime replied, giving her an extra squeeze before letting her go.  
"Sleep well."  
"I'm giving myself about ten seconds after my head hits the pillow, so that's not going to be a problem. Not even snoring hockey dude will disturb me today."  
"Well...bye."  
"Bye."

Brienne turned to go, but then turned right back around again. Before she could lose the courage, she pressed a quick peck on Jaime's cheek. His hand came up to touch the spot she'd just kissed, eyes sparkling.

"Definitely not complaining, but what was that for?"  
"Good luck."  
"Well, now that really leaves me no choice. Now I gotta kick ass."

The mischievous grin he was sporting now was so much more like him and Brienne left him feeling much better, having succeeded in her mission of making him feel better.


	9. Chapter 9

Brienne made sure to get to the short track rink extra early to receive a good seat within the 'reserved for athletes' block. She was planning to stay a while, as long as Jaime was in the competition, and since she firmly believed he was going to make the final, she wanted to have a good view of that. There were going to be 10 heats with six skaters each in them, five 'semi-finals' and of course the big one, sometime this afternoon. The rinkside announcer was warming up the crowd while footage from the competitions of the last 10 days played before teasing the audience with some names of artists that would perform in tomorrow's closing ceremony. Brienne hadn't even thought about that yet, just having gone from day to day, and the realisation quite startled her. Obviously, she'd known her competitions were over, but she'd somehow thought there was more time afterwards. The Games would be over tomorrow night. While she was looking forward to flying to Tarth and Evenfall, looking forward to seeing her dad, tell him all about the Games and showing him the medals she'd won, she couldn't help but be a bit sad about it all ending. She'd made a real good friend in Shireen and would definitely stay in contact with her, and of course there was also Jaime. Even though they'd only known each other for less than two weeks now, it would be odd not to see him everyday with his big smiles and easygoing attitude. At least not until he moved to The North whenever that was. Brienne also still had to finish out the world cup season and would be traveling quite some distance all over Westeros. And who knew what would happen once he did move to Winterfell? Maybe by the time they saw each other again, whatever it had been that had drawn him to her, would've fizzled out. They'd lived in a, albeit hectic and at times stressing, cocoon over the past ten days. It was not their everyday life.

She shook her head. She hadn't given any concrete thought about the time after the Games up until now, and now that the reality of traveling home the day after tomorrow had snuck up on her, she didn't automatically only have to have pessimistic thoughts about it. They'd been out once, it was much too early to say how this was going to go, and for every hypothetical scenario in which things went sour, there was also one in which they didn't. Jaime seemed to be as sure about his wanting to go out with her again as she was about him, there was no reason to doubt him, after all, as he'd proven the other day, he had no problems being 'brutally honest'. For the duration of the Games, Brienne had lived from day to day, not thinking further than tomorrow, and it had turned out really well for her. For now, she'd just stick to that approach and enjoy the rest of her time here. It was a whole new way of dealing with things in general for her since she usually wasn't the kind of person who enjoyed surprises very much and preferred a straight, secure course of action, but looking back on her whole acquaintance with Jaime, she couldn't help but acknowledge that spontaneity did have its perks.  
  
500 metres really were a 'no holds barred, all in' event, both in her discipline and short tracking. A bad start could already mean it was all over, because there was neither time nor space to make up for it. There was no time for any kind of tactic. Four and a half laps around the track, just trying to race as fast as one could. That allowed for more mistakes, and Brienne witnessed at least one thing go wrong in every of the heats once they'd finally begun. Lots of false starts, or skaters being unable to hold the bend at the high speed and subsequently falling, sometimes even taking others with them. It made her even more nervous and she hoped fervently none of these things would happen in Jaime's races. She would've hoped for all the following races to go off without a hitch, for fairness' sakes, but judging by the amount that had already gone wrong, that was highly unlikely, so if there were going to be only three of them, she really wished they were his.

  
Jaime stepped out on the ice when it was time for heat seven, and Brienne instantly crossed her fingers. He skated once around the rink to get a feel for the ice while they introduced him, before stopping at rinkside to wipe off his blades. His coach said something to him, which Jaime nodded to, before he clapped him on the shoulder and sent him off.

Taking his place at the starting line, Jaime pushed out a short, hard breath and adjusted the strap of his helmet, before taking position.

The shot rang and he had a really good reaction time, going into the bend in first place and defending it. They were going so fast and yet Brienne almost couldn't believe how, give or take, 42 seconds could feel so long. When the bell for the final lap rang and Jaime was still in first place, she allowed herself to take a well-needed breath. There was no 'photo' blinking next to his name this time; when he crossed the finish line there was no doubt he'd won.

Jaime acknowledged his win with a crisp nod of his head, but obviously didn't break out into any kind of celebration, after all, it had only been the first round of hopefully three. He skated around the track once more, his eyes scanning the cheering crowd. When his eyes found Brienne, he stopped in front of her, making a _'What do you think?'_ -gesture. Brienne gave him a thumbs up and he stroked his beard, giving her a wink. Then he was already ushered out of the rink again to make place for the skaters of heat 8.

There was only a small break between the first round and the semi-finals, just another ice resurfacing really, and while the draw putting Jaime in the last of them meant he had at least a little time to breathe between races, it also meant that he'd have the shortest break before the final. That he would reach it was just a given in Brienne's mind and she refused to even consider the possibility of him not reaching one of the first two spots in his next race.

Four Westerlands skaters had reached the semis and two of them came in last in their respective races. Addam Marbrand, competing in semifinal number three, qualified as second in his race, once more beaten by Jon Snow. The young man from The North wasn't overly tall or packed with leg muscles, but damn if he wasn't fast. He was definitely going to be the hardest competitor to beat, for anyone.

When Jaime returned for his semifinal, Brienne assumed her position again, hearing her left thumb actually make a crack!-sound from all the squeezing. Not looking left or right, he did his warmup lap and took his spot at the starting line together with his five opponents.

The shot rang and instantly after it, another. False start. It hadn't been a blatant one, one of the skaters must've merely twitched enough for the judge to call them back. It took only a few moments for the information who it had been to reach the rink announcer and when he called out Jaime's name, Brienne's eyes widened, while he apparently acknowledged it by not reacting in any way. Every skater was allowed one false start, so it didn't take him out of the event yet, but he'd have to make extra sure now to be within the alloted reaction time and not get the second one. He couldn't risk anything at the start, if he didn't hit it just right, he was going to be at a disadvantage. Brienne felt like she couldn't watch yet definitely had to.

The skaters took their position again, getting ready for the take-off. When the shot rang without another one to follow it, Brienne held her breath again. Jaime was in fourth position, after a rather mediocre but safe start. Now that the race was underway though, he immediately made out to rectify that situation. Before the second bend he was already in third place, having sneaked by the skater in front of him who, in a show of inexperience, had left a gap between him and the track mark as he was preparing to lean down into the curve. The man who was currently in second position didn't do Jaime the favor and instead made sure he was tightly skating to the track mark so that no one could even think of sneaking by him. Jaime waited two rounds to see if there was going to be an opening after all, but when, by the penultimate round it hadn't happened, he took matters in his hands again and sheered out to the right side to overtake the guy the long way around. The man, from the Riverlands judging by his suit, tried to speed up himself when he realized what was going on, wanting to cut Jaime's attempt off before the next bend, but Jaime managed to put himself before his opponent right before he had to lean in for the curve. There wasn't much space between them as they came to the final straight, but Jaime was the skater in front, and that was all that mattered. The deep breath of relief Brienne heaved probably was bigger than the one he gave out of exhaustion.  
Skating past by her on his deceleration lap, Jaime wiped his gloved hand across his forehead and pretended to flick off sweat. Brienne gave him another thumbs up and held out her hands, making them shake exaggeratedly to convey what a thriller this race had been. He gave her a throwaway gesture in return as if to say 'Nah', but he looked a lot more relieved than he wanted to let show.

"Two down, one to go." Jaime mouthed, before he disappeared again.

Brienne repeated it to herself. One more to go. And by the Gods was she glad about it. Even more rounds of this action and she could probably skip cardio for a week.  
The break between the semifinals and the final was a little longer, but still hardly any time to regain substance of any kind. Even though the suspense was killing her, Brienne felt it was much too soon before the final was announced.

This was it. Win or lose, this was going to be Jaime's last race in the Westeros Winter Games. Somehow Brienne felt as if the people surrounding her should know that to appreciate it properly.

_"In position one, from the Westerlands, Westeros Winter Games bronze medalist Addam Marbrand. In position two, from The North, Gold medal winner on the 1000 metres distance, Jon Snow. In position three, from the Westerlands, Jaime Lannister. In position four, from The North, Jon Umber jr. In position five, winner of the 1,5000 metres event, from The Reach, Dickon Tarly. In position six, from Dorne, Trystane Martell."_

Each of the skaters gave a little wave when their name was announced as they stepped onto the ice individually one after the other. Brienne's pulse was hammering so hard it felt she was racing herself. Jaime rotated his arms a few times, shaking his head from side to side as if to work out a kink, before taking his place at the start.  
'Please Gods, no false starts, no accidents. Let him medal. Nevermind the color, but let him medal.' Brienne mumbled under her breath, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. The starting gun going off made them fly wide open again.

  
Jaime was third. Jon Snow was in front and the young man from Dorne between them in second place. Jon Umber was in fourth position, Addam in fifth and the man from the reach was last. When they'd circled the track once and came by Brienne again, the positions hadn't changed. Three laps to go.   
Since her eyes were glued to Jaime, Brienne didn't even realize when a skater fell. It was only the outcry of the audience that alerted her to the fact. It hadn't been one of the first three, that was all she knew. Chancing a quick glance to the back of the field, she recognized by the color of his suit that it was Addam Marbrand that was just getting up again after having crashed full-speed into the cushioned rinkside. When she looked back to the front, Jaime was beginning an attack on the guy from Dorne. The young man held against him but after another lap couldn't hold the speed that Jaime was still forcing anymore and had to let up, allowing Jaime to slip by just in time for the bell to last lap ringing. They went into the bend and suddenly something black skidded over the ice. It was one of the seven track markers, having been touched by a skate. Not Jaime's. It was Jon Snow who'd stepped too far left and as a result had to take two wobbly steps to stay upright. The gap between him and Jaime had gotten smaller, and it hadn't been a big one to begin with. They were so close to each other that it wouldn't have surprised Brienne had Jon Snow been able to feel Jaime's breath on his neck.

They went into the very last bend. Snow had no chance to go in cautiously, he tried to hit the angle of the bend in that way that would make him quasi cannonball out of it, the way Jaime had done in the first race Brienne had ever watched him in. It didn't work as perfectly for Jon Snow as it had for Jaime. He couldn't hold radius and his speed made him drift out to the right side. There was a gap!  
  
When Jaime crossed the finish line, he threw his head back and just screamed while raising his balled fists into the air. Jon Snow looked as stoically and dour as ever as he followed Jaime on his deceleration lap to congratulate the new champion with a short pat on the shoulder and a nod.

  
_"Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the 500 metres event and Westeros Winter Games gold medalist, representing the Westerlands: Jaime Lannister!"_

  
Upon hearing the announcer declare the result and make if official, Jaime shook his head in disbelief while a giant megawatt smile formed on his face. He ripped off his helmet and swung it like a lasso by its strap. It looked embarrassingly cute and Brienne was quite glad to be recording it on her phone for posterity.

Jaime skated a few laps around the track, celebrating and giving the photographers a chance to take their picture before he finally came to stop in front of Brienne's section where she'd walked as close to the rinkside as she could. His hair was in dire need of a comb, his breathing was still accelerated, though no longer out of exertion but excitement, his eyes, now that they'd lost that look of almost disbelief he'd sported right after the race, were shining. He looked glorious.

"Congratulations!" Brienne yelled, her own megawatt smile stretching her facial muscles. The crowd was still loud, but not deafening so.  
"Thank you!" Jaime yelled back.  
"I knew you could do it!"  
"That makes one of us then!"  
"The beard made all the difference!" Brienne joked, since Jaime himself had said that 'he who shaveth, loseth'. Jaime shook his head.  
"Nah, wasn't the beard!"

The look he gave her clearly conveyed the message that, as far as he was concerned, she instead had something to do with it. Brienne rolled her eyes. It had just been a little peck.

"Go and let yourself be honored!" She told him, pretending to be annoyed. Jaime saw right through it, laughed and nodded.  
"Meet me at medal plaza?"  
"Sure!"

Brienne knew from experience that the next few hours would be cramped for him with interviews, press conference and whatnot, so hanging out here after the flower ceremony really made no sense, for she wouldn't get to see him anyway.

"Later!"

Skating to the entrance of the rink, Jaime disappeared to put on some other clothes, while Brienne returned to her seat to watch the flower ceremony that was already being prepared. And maybe record some more of him on her phone. She may no longer see his face in person everyday starting the day after tomorrow, but there was nothing wrong with collecting a little bit of footage to tide her over until he came to Winterfell, right?


	10. Chapter 10

"Brienne? _Brienne?_ Brienne, you need to get up!"

Groaning and pressing her face into the pillow, Brienne turned over and cracked open an eye. Shireen was looking at her expectantly.

"Are you awake?"  
"..Possibly" Brienne croaked.  
"Good. You need to get under the shower now, we're supposed to leave for the stadium in an hour."

That did it and Brienne sat up like a jackknife, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

"An hour?! Why didn't you wake me?"  
"You wrote me a note saying 'Don't wake me' when you finally came back. I just did what you asked, by the way a huge effort on my part, and went to spent the day with dad so you'd get some peaceful sleep. How was I to know you'd choose today to transform into a hibernating hedgehog?"  
"Trust me, it wasn't planned." Brienne replied, getting up and stretching.  
"Did you spend the night with Jaime?"  
"What? No! I mean yes, but...no." Brienne spluttered.  
"Relax, I'd never ask for details about _that_. I just meant if you two were together, wherever you were."  
"Oh. Yeah, we were."

  
_After getting to medal plaza and watching (and recording) Jaime be awarded his long desired gold medal, they had finally gotten to meet backstage within normal-talking-level-distance. The moment he'd seen her he all but sprinted towards Brienne, lifting her up as if she weren't actually a little bit taller than him and swung her around._

 _"Stop it, you'll drop me!" She exclaimed after a rather untypical, because quite girlish, squeak._  
_"I'm strong enough."_

_And he was. He had her in the air for a full two rotations. When he finally set her down, he kept his arms around her waist._

_"I still can't believe it. I mean, yeah, I knew I was in shape but I would've gladly taken the silver..I'm almost ten years older than that Snow kid. And he's good. He's really good."_  
_"Yeah, but he can't grow a decent beard, it's all patchy, no wonder he lost."_

_A devious gleam came into Jaime's eyes._

_"I told you it wasn't just the beard. You know, maybe I should continue for a season or two after all. If one kiss on my cheek from you makes me win gold in the Games, one cannot begin to imagine the things I'd be able to do if we ever--"_  
_"Finish that sentence and you will suffer a career-ending injury." Brienne interrupted sternly._  
_"Alright, alright. I won't. I was just joking. I know there needs to be build-up. If I got exposed to the full Brienne-power at once, who knows what may happen to me at my age?"_  
_"Ha ha."_  
_"Though I really wouldn't mind being exposed a little.."_

_His eyes were focused on her lips, while his hands still losely held her waist. Past that verbal expression of his desires, he was not making any advances, leaving the decision of what would happen or not completely up to Brienne again. This time around, however,  there was no chain of questions in her head, she knew her answer. She was definitely willing to 'expose' him a little, but wasn't really forward enough to take that final step._

_"Well, as every athlete knows warm-up is very important.." She answered instead, giving him a hint as to what she wanted._  
_"That is true.." Jaime nodded with a smile, his face now slowly inching closer._  
_"And far be it from me to stand in the way of someone else's progress.."_  
_"A fair sportswoman, got to admire that.." Jaime replied, now even closer._  
_"And--"_  
_"And I know you're stubborn and would probably continue looking for sports comparisons for another two minutes just to make the point, but I really can't wait that long, so I'm going to finally kiss you now if that's alright with you?"_

_Brienne gave up on the sports comparison, in fact gave up on talking altogether, and simply nodded at him. Not a second later his lips touched hers, warm and soft and with the perfect pressure. Not that she had a well of experience to compare this kiss and its actual level of perfection to, but at least to her it felt perfect. Deserving of a gold medal, so to say. She almost giggled about the fact that yet another sports comparison had popped up in her mind as Jaime's hand traveled from her waist over her arm, shoulder and neck to her head where he gently slid his fingers into her short hair, but when she felt the tip of his tongue softly trace over her full bottom lip, she ceased thinking for the time being and chose to just feel instead._

  
_That had been only the first kiss of quite a few in the following hours. When the loud music from the stage about 60 feet away where another artist was giving a free show got too interfering with their quiet celebration, Jaime had grabbed Brienne by the hand and declared that a feast was in order. Leaving medal plaza's areal, he walked her to a taxi stand. At her question whether he wasn't expected at the Westerlands Center or for other obligations, he just shrugged and said that they could just as well celebrate his win without him while he celebrated it the way he wanted to and that Hot Pie's pizza and a beer sounded a lot better to him than canapés and champagne. Brienne was inclined to agree, although it was already a bit late for dinner, and so they drove to the city center to dine once more at the lovely, quaint restaurant._

_At Hot Pie's, with steaming plates of food in front of them, they got to talk about after-the-games. Jaime, too, was going to finish out his season, and afterwards go back home to Casterly Rock to settle his affairs for the move up North. He was planning to arrive there in about three months' time, with one month after that to settle in and everything before his coaching training course would begin. Three months sounded like an incredibly long time, and there surely would be hard moments, but with both of them being busy it should be manageable. It had to be, since it wasn't like they could do much about it anyway. Except for phone calls or communicating via westerbook, which reminded Brienne that they really needed to exchance numbers and email and she got her phone out to do just that._

_"You'll see me again faster than you know. After all, we still have business to settle."_  
_"What business?" Brienne asked, confused._  
_"Duh. Who's the fastest of us."_  
_"Really? Jaime.."_  
_"You started it by not agreeing I am. I'm just showing you how wrong you are with that. Come on, it'll be fun! I'll even skate on your giant-sized rink."_  
_"What happened to being fine with going out with a woman more successful than you?"_  
_"I am. You're free to dominate the speed skating circuit for the foreseeable future all you want. This little short tracker here is still faster."_  
_"And you call me stubborn?"_  
_"Of course. That's how I know you'll totally race me. If for no other reason than to try and make me eat my words."_  
_"Suddenly this racing idea has possibilities. I'm not sure it is physically possible for you to be speechless."_  
_"There are moments.." Jaime replied, leaning over the small table to kiss her again._  
  
_When Hot Pie's Pizza Palace closed for the night, Jaime hailed them another taxi and had the driver take them to the historic Red Keep. Obviously, at 2am in the morning it was already closed for public viewing, but since Brienne was going to be a grad student in history and hadn't really gotten to see anything of the steeped-in-history city she'd just spend two weeks in, Jaime wanted her to at least have a look at the ancient complex. He indulged her by asking questions, and Brienne gladly elaborated on this building or that or kings and queens of centuries ago and their more or less sordid stories as they leisurely strolled around the area. Jaime, who at this point had to be dead tired, still listened patiently except for the times when he interrupted Brienne to kiss her. Come to think of it, he'd interrupted quite often, so maybe he wasn't all that interested in the history lesson after all.._

_It was about quarter to four when they finally got back to the village after Jaime simply couldn't go for more than two minutes without yawning and Brienne decided for the both of them it was time to go home in spite of his reassurances that he was 'in the shape of his life'._

_Of course he insisted of walking her to her room and once more they said goodbye in front of the elevator so as to not wake up Shireen, who, so Brienne was sure, was this time definitely asleep and not waiting up for her. This time however, there was no awkward pause. This time there was a sweet goodnight kiss and the promise to meet in the underbelly of the stadium for the closing ceremony, right in the spot where they'd first met._  
_Brienne had snuck into her room, brushed her teeth, wrote the note for Shireen not to wake her and sank into her bed, quickly falling asleep to thoughts about the wonderful night she'd just had._

  
"Are you now finally ready to admit that he is cute?" Shireen grinned at her as she saw her roommate's face while Brienne remembered the last night.  
"Maybe" She replied coyly.  
"Just maybe?" The young skater asked sceptically as Brienne grabbed some underwear from her suitcase and prepared to get to the tiny bathroom.  
"If one is into that type.." Brienne smirked, repeating her inital statement from more than a week ago, and ducked into the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind her.  
"You so are! Don't think I won't ask again! You know I am vicariously living through you!" Shireen yelled after her.  
Turning on the shower, Brienne smiled to herself. Her friend was almost right. It wasn't so much Jaime's type she was into, it was Jaime.

Getting ready just in time to board the buses to the stadium, the two roommates soon found themselves standing in the same spot they'd stood 12 days ago, looking in awe at the flashing lights above the stadium. Stannis Baratheon was handing out little flags again and once more solemnly reminded everyone to show their best behaviour since just because the competitions were over, it didn't mean they weren't still representants of their home state. But that was where the similarities ended. The stadium was still big, but no longer intimidatingly so. They were excited, but without the nerves about competing. The fruits of their efforts were dangling from their necks. And there was going to be someone waiting for Brienne in the catacombs she couldn't wait to see.

Only that he didn't show. While they were once more shuffling forward, waiting for the parade of competitors, Brienne looked around for Jaime, but couldn't find him. He hadn't overslept and missed the bus, had he? Surely his roommate, as monosyllabic as he had been the one time Brienne had met him, would've woken Jaime up?

"Ah my old foe, the ugly hat. How I have not missed thee." A voice from behind her rang just as Brienne was about to whip out her phone and call him. She whirled around to find herself staring into Jaime's smiling face.  
"Hey!" She said, a smile automatically finding its way onto her face as well.  
"Hey! Hi cake crumb." Jaime added a greeting to Shireen without taking his eyes off Brienne.  
"Hello, Jaime. Congratulations on your win yesterday."  
"Thank you!" He beamed at Shireen, "And on your bronze as well. I haven't had time to watch it yet, but I'm sure your free program was a lot better than that arm-flailing redhead's."  
"Not really, but maybe four years from now."  
"That's the spirit, kid." Jaime agreed and gave Shireen a gentle fistbump on the shoulder,  "Always come back with a vengeance and make them gag on it."  
"Huh?"  
"Kick their asses?"  
"Ah."  
"Yeah. Now do me a favor and watch those giant direwolves puppets horribly dancing out there for a moment, would you? I don't want it to be said that I corrupted a minor."  
"See? That I understood without any translation. Hurry up before my dad sees you with the wrong delegation again." Shireen smirked and dutifully turned to the side to watch the ceremony on the big screen as Jaime leaned in towards Brienne.

"He can twitch all he wants, I'm not going anywhere." He declared once he'd kissed her thoroughly and to his momentary satisfaction. "It's not like he can do much about it. Besides, I have a plan."  
"And what plan would that be?" Brienne asked. "I can't hide you. Big as I am, you're not a twig either."  
"Please, it's nothing simple like that." Jaime scoffed. "It's a good plan. Thought out and everything."  
"Well?" Brienne asked, when he didn't elaborate.

Jaime's hand shot forward, snatching the 'ugly hat' off Brienne's head and putting it on his own, stepping out of her reach, before she could react. The pink bobble clashed horribly with his red snowsuit, but even so, just like she guessed during their first date, it didn't render him laughable. Not that Brienne would tell him that.

"You look ridiculous."  
"Laugh all you want, I'm using this to blend in and I'm not giving it back. In fact, I think I'm going to throw this thing into the cauldron when we get out there."  
"You will not!" Brienne exclaimed, making a grab to snatch her hat back, but he eluded her.  
"Oh yes I will. And cake crumb's as well. You both deserve better. They need to be destroyed."

Okay, so maybe one more thing hadn't changed. Jaime apparently still considered himself a fashion critic.

"Give it back." Brienne demanded. She would never wear this thing again after tonight, but it was part of _her_ outfit.  
"Make me. I'm a sprinter, you'll never catch me."  
"But I can still run when your stamina has left the building."  
"You see now why we have to settle certain things?"  
"Oh I'll race you, Jaime Lannister. I'll race you right into the ground any day of the week. Now give me back my ugly hat before I throw _you_ into the cauldron."  
"I think I'll get back to my team after all." Jaime grinned, ducking behind Shireen to evade yet another of Brienne's attempts to get her hat back. "These are the Westeros Winter Games after all, very prestigious. It would be wrong to mess with the perfect order of events some choreographer has spent hours on creating. See you in the stadium."  
"Jaime.." Brienne warned, giving him her sternest, scowliest look, one that she knew had occasionally put the fear of the Gods into people. It didn't work on him.  
"Guess you'll just have to find me fast out there to prevent it."

And with that he blew her a kiss, turned on his heel and sped off back to the sea of red that was the Westerlands team. Again with the last word!

"You're going to have your work cut out for you trying to keep up with that." Shireen remarked. Brienne nodded. A life with Jaime in it would definitely not be as quiet and uneventful as a life without him in it had been. Brienne was truly looking forward to it.  
"Yup" She replied as the crowd got moving, towards the exit and into the stadium.  
"Good thing you're a long distance skater. You have lots of stamina."

Well that was true. And keeping up with Jaime could be good training, too. After all, four years from now the next Westeros Winter Games would be held and Brienne needed to stay in shape if she was going to try and defend her title.

For tonight though, she was going to be happy enjoying the moment. Celebrate her achievements of the past 12 days, celebrate friendships, celebrate life and love.  Maybe finally get the last word in a conversation with Jaime, once she found him. And just maybe save her ugly hat from destruction while she was doing all of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for letting me share my love for the olympics and for JB with you guys!  
> Hope you had fun!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


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